


come lie with my bones

by krystian



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Blood, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Past Character Death, it's really light though, mhm i love semicolons, please dont read this its bad im not joking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:35:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22131139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krystian/pseuds/krystian
Summary: Summoning a ghost seemed like such a great idea to Tendou, at least until he actually did it and the ghost turned out to be more than a little annoying.But - and he couldn't deny it - he had grown fond of the boy.[Currently being edited]
Relationships: Semi Eita/Tendou Satori
Comments: 9
Kudos: 42





	1. En håndfull støv

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "krystian," my tutor addresses me exasperatedly, worry in her eyes as i slide into the room on heelys, "you have to stop using so many semicolons." 
> 
> "no," i say, defiantly staring into her eyes as i take a sip of my capri-sun. i do not like capri-sun, but she needn't know that. i am an enigma, sunglasses covering my eyes that would otherwise burn holes into her body. "i'll never stop using them. you cant make me."
> 
> she watches with a sad smile as i hand another paper in, my sentences usually four or five lines long. "krystian," she repeats, shaking her head as she grades my essay while my german teacher cheers me on in the background, delighted when he reads the paper because sentences in german are really fucking long, "why are you like this." 
> 
> i cannot answer her; all that is certain are semicolons
> 
> changed the title; works better. it's from girl in red's [i wanna be your girlfriend](https://youtu.be/qCwlA7J56XY)
> 
> I write too much tensemi stuff btw.

Tendou’s gaze roamed over the house, taking it in with all of its little flaws and imperfections like a potential buyer would do.

It seemed nice enough. The moderately-sized house had a quaint, calm atmosphere to it and was in a relatively good condition. In these suburbs, it seemed to fit right in, snuggled cosily in-between two similar-looking houses, both made out of red bricks, ivy climbing up their walls; there was nothing unusual about it at all.

He grinned to himself; yes, this would suffice.

Stepping closer to the blue gate – it looked to be hand painted – he pushed it open, which happened with relative ease. It didn’t squeak beneath his fingers but instead swung right open, beckoning him inside. And he did just that – walked across the stone path leading to the porch, ignored the mailbox, and climbed up the stairs, laying his hand on the railing and feeling the white paint chip beneath his fingertips ever so slightly. Apparently it wasn’t _that_ well-cared for, then.

The front door ( _after he had tried turning the knob and furiously kicking it_ ) didn’t seem to open, but that was no problem, really. Tendou shifted the messenger bag he was carrying with him so it wouldn’t dig into his side anymore, and hopped over the railing, off the porch and onto the dry grass which rustled beneath his feet.

It had been a hot summer indeed – while the gardens of every other house in vicinity looked green and fresh, made possible by wasting water to irrigate flowerbeds and lawn, this garden looked run-down, old and uncared for, as if everyone had just simultaneously _decided_ to forget its existence.

Which, of course, only made this easier for him.

With a crunch accompanying his footsteps, he stalked across the lawn, past empty flowerbeds and thirsty apple trees and whatever the fuck else had been planted here. By the time he reached the backyard, sweat was dripping down the side of his face and he was breathing heavily.

Tendou carefully eyed the almost-meadow in front of him; a small, rusty-looking swing in its centre and what seemed to be a former sandbox to the side of it, now filled with dead leaves that must’ve accumulated during the years of neglect.

Despite knowing better, he crouched down on its edge and swept the leaves aside, coarse sand grains now sticking to his fingers and amassing underneath his nails. Well, fuck, if that wasn’t a _nice_ feeling.

But he wouldn’t be Tendou if such a simple thing discouraged him.

Thus he hummed a little tune as he dug in, brushed the sand aside and felt for the unmistakeable shape of _something_ _else_ besides what felt like dried and clumped together cat excrements. A small ant scurried by, and he watched it dis- and reappear between grains of sand.

And there it was!

Triumphantly he pulled out his hand, sand clinging to it and clutching a small, fire-red toy car made out of metal. It was as rusty as anything in the garden, but that didn’t matter. Grinning to himself, he zipped open his bag and stuffed it inside, next to his laptop and the big, foldable board he was currently carrying with him.

Standing up, he brushed off the excess sand and made his way back to the porch on the backside of the house.

How high would the chances be that the family had left the back door unlocked?

Apparently next to zero.

Guessing had always been his strong suit, though.

So instead of cursing and leaving the house alone, like any normal human being would do after such obvious defeat, he took a step back, scrutinized his surroundings and looked for _clues._

And there were clues, alright.

At first he lifted the small, withered plant out of its pot and groped around inside of the rough flowerpot, coming up with empty hands. Seeing how that didn’t bear any fruits, he started feeling around the shutters and lifted the welcome mat, sweeping his hands across to feel even the slightest trace of _anything_. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to have some kind of X-ray vision.

That wasn’t it either, though. Tendou cursed lightly, ran his hand through his hair that now – thanks to the heat – clung to his face, kneeled down on the wooden porch and crawled around on all fours, pressing lightly _(and then harder, when that didn’t pay off)_ on the floorboards.

He had all but one second to react when one board at the end of the porch suddenly gave in and he plunged arm-first into the hole, his face almost colliding with the porch and stabbing out his eye with a splintered piece of wood. Breathing through his nose, he steeled himself and squeezed his eyes shut, before he manoeuvred around the splinter endangering his eye and pressed his face to the hole he’d created, looking at the bottom.

It looked muddy, dark brown and green and it reeked of rotting things, and – and there was something silvery down there, half hidden by leaves and dirt.

With a cry of delight, he reached down, his long limbs useful for once, and plucked the key out of its grave. He leaned back on his knees and held it in both of his hands, savouring it like a treasure, even though dirt and moss clung to its surface and it was slick in his hands.

He sprung up, not bothering to hide the damage he had done to the porch and rushed to the door, fingers trembling with excitement and anticipation. Despite being Tendou, it wasn’t an everyday-occurrence to break into someone else’s house so easily, especially without having to smash some windows first. Although he really liked that part, if he was being honest.

Pushing it into the keyhole with all his might, he squealed when it turned around with no problem, unlocking the door at once. Tendou pushed it open slightly, listened to it creak beneath his fingertips, which sounded like music to his ears, and laid the flat of his palm on the wooden surface, warmed by the sun shining down upon on it.

This was it, this was his chance!

He pushed it open all the way and took in the interior, done in monochrome colours, the furniture covered with linen and dust hovering peacefully in the air, undisturbed, for what seemed to have been years. It kind of reminded him of a hospital; spotless, clean, sterile - well, at least the parts that didn't seem to be drowning in dust.

Tendou breathed in and savoured the smell, tasted the dust of an abandoned house on his tongue. Seemingly everything had been left after the previous owners had – gone away? Died? All that he needed to know was that the locals seemed to avoid this house like the plague – so naturally, it was perfect. And anyhow, it wasn’t really his place to worry about that; although he kind of hoped that the rumours were true and the latter was the case. It was morbid to wish for someone’s death, but he really wanted this to go well, wanted to prove his friends wrong.

He decided to leave the furniture as it was, not wanting to raise any more dust, and instead stepped into the hallway, his shoes creating imprints on the floor. The first room he inspected was on the right; a small, homey kitchen with a sleek, marble counter, an ingrained stove and fridge, and a wooden table with three chairs. A withered flower in a vase without water stood on its surface, its petals hanging down, as if it was sad that its owners had left it behind. He tried turning on the tap, but no water was coming, so he gave up and shot it one last, pitying look. There was nothing else that caught his attention; the fridge was completely empty, as were the cupboards.

The next room was a small bathroom, right next to the kitchen, which didn’t really interest him that much, so he left it alone as well.

At the end of the hallway was a larger bedroom, its windows, obscured by big curtains, facing the neighbouring house. A queen-sized bed with one drawer on each side stood in the middle, accompanied by a wardrobe and a mirror in one corner and a bookcase in the other. Tendou thumbed through the books, idly noting how many historical novels and thrillers there were, as well as a few books about fishing and baking. Something seemed off about the room, though, even if he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Actually; yes, he could. Tendou looked around once more and then it hit him – there were several square patches on the wall, where the wallpaper seemed to be darker than everywhere else, like something had blocked the sunlight from bleaching it. The most likely solution were pictures that had been removed, if the many crime-movies he’d watched were to be trusted.

It was what it was, though; of course the previous owners would take their pictures with them if they’d left the house for good, so he didn’t dwell on it and instead moved along, to the first and only room on the left side of the floor.

Which was the living room, as it seemed. Two long, elegant couches stood to the side, both facing a lowered table, and there was a shape on the sideboard that seemed to be a covered TV, complete with PlayStation and controllers.

Whoever had lived here seemed to have had children. Or they just really liked video games – he didn’t judge either way.

Tendou shrugged – a silly gesture to make if you were alone, but loneliness just had that effect on him – making a mental note to come back to the room later on, and stepped out into the hallway once again.

There was only one way to go now.

_(God, he loved being dramatic.)_

The first step of the stairs creaked – what else could happen? – beneath his feet, but he didn’t pay attention to that, instead trying not to slip on the dust and gripping the railing so hard that his knuckles turned white.

At the top of the stairs he paused, looking around. There were three rooms up here, one to the left, one to the right and one, once again, at the end of the hallway.

This time he started with the one on the left – which seemed to be a study. An old desk stood in the middle, adorned with empty picture frames, the glass mostly broken, as well as empty penholders. The drawers were locked, and he half-heartedly jiggled the handles, but he wasn’t there to steal any of their stuff so he let them be. Cabinets stood to the side, some of them containing books and some of them empty. There also was an easel in one of the corners, its frame coloured by stray splatters of paint.

He left the room and opened the door at the end of the hallway, which turned out to be just another bathroom. It reeked of aggressive detergents in this one, though, so he almost immediately closed the door and scrunched up his nose, shaking his head to get the stench out of his nostrils.

The only room left now was the one to the right.

A bright yellow sticker was plastered onto the white surface of the door, marring the cleanliness of the rest of the house. It read something like _‘ emi E t ’ _ and beneath it, in smaller letters, _‘ eep O t!’. _Tendou vaguely remembered seeing a name akin to the first word on the sticker on the mailbox, but he couldn’t really remember –the second phrase, though, seemed to once have meant “Keep Out!”. So the family definitely _had_ had a child after all! No respectable adult would stick this onto their door!

Energetically he threw the door open, and was instantly greeted by the first warm colours he’d seen in the entire house. While everything else was white and grey and black, this room had an orange wallpaper, and the ceiling was covered with glow-in-the-dark stars, which obviously didn’t work in broad daylight. A pity.

He almost immediately felt at home.

Carefully placing his bag on the double bed in one corner of the room, he looked around. There was a wardrobe near the door and a desk in the corner, movies and games all over it, as if the person living here had left one day and simply not returned since – a stark contrast to the linen covering the other pieces of furniture. And a good sign for him. He crouched down, checking to see if he’d missed anything, and beneath the bed were wooden milk-crates, filled to the brim with what seemed to be toys, books and other junk, as well as some paints and brushes. Bingo.

Tendou ventured back over to the bed, opening a window on the way there to let some fresh air inside, and then sat down on the covers, swirling up some dust in the process.

Then he rummaged inside the bag he’d brought with him, fishing out the board and the small toy, which he carefully placed on the cluttered nightstand next to the bed.

You usually needed two people to use the Ouija-Board, but in this case – as none of his friends had been willing to join the home invasion – one person would suffice.

He now kneeled on the bed, the board on his lap and laid the planchette on the board, his fingers never straying from it.

This was it. His heart thrummed in his ribcage.

Tendou closed his eyes and slowed his breathing, inhaling through the nose and exhaling through the mouth. It would be fine. This wasn’t his first time using the board. It had always gone well.

He opened them again, but instead of looking at the displayed options on the board, he kept them fixated on the wardrobe across him.

His throat felt dry when he started speaking.

“Are there-” Tendou cleared his throat, the sound unnaturally loud in the otherwise quiet room, “How many spirits are there in this room at the moment?”

But before he could get his answer, the door flew open and a boy – no, a young man – barged right inside; he was pale, panting heavily, and despite the heat of the day, his breath was visible, small clouds of mist rising into the air before evaporating.

The boy was dressed nicely, although a little outdated. The black shirt was a harsh contrast against his almost white skin, and sported an emblem of a band that had disappeared off the face of the earth a year prior. A pair of beige, comfortable-looking chino pants, ending at his mid-calves hugged his slim frame. There were no shoes on his feet, but something on his ear caught the sunlight - it was a small, black ear stud.

He looked around with wild eyes, before his gaze found Tendou, and there was _fear_ in it, marring his kind-of-cute face.

“This house is haunted,” he shrieked, voice way too high, his eyes wide and crazed. “There’s blood in the tub and – and we have to get out of here. I – what?” He faltered at the look on Tendou’s face. “Don’t you believe me?” 

“There’s no blood here,” he replied, frowning. “I’ve checked every room. Are you sure you’re alright?”

The boy gawped at him. “Oh my god. You are- you are one of them, aren’t you? The ones haunting this house, who make the blood appear?” He stumbled back, not taking his eyes off of Tendou.

He got up, the board landing on the floor without care, and stalked across the room in determined strides to lay his hand on the other boy’s shoulder, so he could calm him down – and maybe prove his suspicions. It went right through. They both stared at it for the fraction of a second.

It was a little freaky, but he felt _excited_ for what might have been the first time in ages.

“I suppose the living must feel a little like a haunting to the dead, trapped in their own personal hell, bound to relive whatever’s happened to them.” Tendou continued, testing, when the boy still hadn’t taken his eyes off Tendou’s arm.

“What do you mean, _the living?”_ the boy’s voice pitched higher. “I’m not-”

Tendou cocked his head to the side. “Aren’t you?” He asked, face neutral, understanding what the other meant. 

The boy shook his head; a desperate, lost-looking gesture. “Maybe – maybe it’s really just you! You’re the ghost! That’s why you can’t touch me! I’m not- I can’t be!” He backed away further, his back now pressing to the wall.

“Huh,” Tendou shot him a pitying look, “would’ve thought you'd pass right through, all things considered.”

The ashen boy shook his head with vigor that seemed to be misplaced in a ghost, throwing his hands up in- despair? Horror? It was hard reading the emotions of someone that shouldn’t even have emotions anymore. “You’re just playing a joke on me. Get out! Don’t touch me!”

Tendou cautiously stepped closer; it was like approaching a wild, frightened animal. “I-”

“I said get out!” He screamed, anger and anguish contorting his face. “Get out, get out, get out! You don’t belong here!” He slid down the wall, clutching his head in his hands, running them through his ashen hair and gripping at his roots.

Tendou slowly crept nearer, not daring to take off his eyes or film the spectacle in fear of the other one vanishing or lashing out – despite not being able to physically hurt him, he didn’t want to find out what would happen. When he was close enough that he only needed to stretch out his hand to touch the other one, he kneeled down once again and looked at the boy with unblinking eyes.

“You-“ he interrupted himself; the ghost had raised his head and now stared him down, something like helplessness and incomprehension in his gaze. “I do think that you might be… y’know, _dead.”_

A sharp intake of breath interrupted him, but the boy didn’t say anything, so he continued.

“I-“ he gestured vaguely behind himself in direction to the bed. “I’m sorry. I used an Ouija-board. I probably summoned you.”

The boy scoffed. “Bullshit,” he snarled, “I wasn’t summoned. You just broke into my house.”

“ _Your_ house?” Tendou raised an eyebrow. The other seemed not too much older than himself – how could he have a family with a child and own a middle-class house? “And also, didn’t you just say that I was the one haunting this place? Why would I need to break in then?”

“Well, no. My parents’ house,” he corrected himself. “I think.” He frowned, not totally satisfied with the information that his mind seemed to relay to him. He completely ignored the second part to Tendou’s question.

Tendou couldn’t keep the suspicion out of his voice; it seeped through, clinging to his words. “You _think?_ ”

“I’m not completely sure, alright? It’s- hazy.” The boy answered, his face screwing up in what seemed to be exasperation and annoyance. Then, as if it was an afterthought, “Shut up.” It didn’t have any bite to it – it just sounded tired.

Tendou shook his head – who knew that ghosts could be so… so hard to deal with.

He raised his hand and tried placing it once again on the other’s arm, only for it to fall right through once again. The place where their bodies intersected felt cold, numb, and tingled slightly. He retracted his arm.

The other stared at it.

Tendou slipped his phone out of his back pocket, almost dropping it due to the sweat making his fingers slick, and held it out to the boy who looked at him with big, round eyes. “Take it,” he murmured.

The boy swallowed, and reached out, coolness radiating off of his hands as his pale blue fingers closed in around the object. Closed in, and gripped at nothingness. His head fell in defeat.

Tendou sighed, avoiding the boy’s miserable gaze. “You _are_ dead.”

When he looked up again, he saw – to his horror – tears well up in the other’s eyes, but the boy swiftly wiped his arm across his face and Tendou pretended not to notice anything. “I don’t- I’m not- I… maybe you phone is a ghost phone. Maybe none of this is real. Maybe”

Tendou shook his head and pushed his bangs out of his sticky face. “Hey, just- look at me, breathe. It’s not that bad, y’know, to be dead.”

The boy snorted, a choked up sound, and his hand dug into the floor, nails scratching against wood, but leaving no marks in the dust. So only some things were affected by the presence of a ghost. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re not-“ He clamped his mouth shut, as if speaking that word would make it even more real. 

Tendou quizzically stared at him, gears turning in his head. “Can I at least get your name?”

He raised an eyebrow, the rest of his face strangely impassive. “You break into my house and still have the audacity to not even know who I am?”

Tendou shrugged; to be fair, he hadn’t considered the possibility of _actually_ meeting a ghost. Well, he kind of had, but the chances had been fifty-fifty.

“It’s Semi. Semi Eita.” His nose crinkled in disgust. Whether it was because of his own name or because Tendou’s ignorance; he didn’t know. He didn’t care to ask, either.

“Nice to meet you, Semi. I’m Tendou Satori.” He held out his hand for the other to shake, but awkwardly retracted it when he noticed Semi’s incredulous stare, his mouth hanging open.

“The fuck you doing that for? You think my condition is some kinda joke?”

Oh, he was a feisty ghost. “ _’Condition’_? You are dead. There’s literally no way to reverse that.” Oops, Semi didn’t look too happy.

“Shut the hell up.” Why could the ghost only come up with so unoriginal one-liners?

Anyhow, he clamped his mouth shut, deeming it best not to aggravate the ghost any further. He didn’t want to push his luck, after all. “So, you live here, right?”

He waited to give Semi some time to respond, but the other seemed to be lost in thought, head swaying lightly from side to side as he gnawed on his lip. “I don’t- I don’t know?” When Tendou stared at him in confusion, he waved his arms and hastily explained, “Well, I- I used to! It’s not like that!”

“You used to live here, then?” He probably didn’t look that convinced, considering the way Semi eyed him.

“I think so? I mean, I think, judging by the way I look,” he gestured to his pale form, “I must be in my 20s, right? So I probably moved out of my parents’ house. Yeah, I think it was like that. I moved away from here.”

Tendou stroked his chin, red eyes glistening with interest. “But you’re haunting _this_ place? And not, like, your flat or wherever you live?”

Semi shrugged. “Dunno.”

Tendou groaned. Could this ghost be any more unhelpful? “Honestly, what do you even know?”

Semi shot him an annoyed look. “So what? I’m- I can do whatever I want! And I haven’t – haven’t been haunting this place before, I think? I’d surely remember that…”

Would he really? Tendou raised an eyebrow, his gaze locked on the other.

“I totally would! And anyhow,” he glared at Tendou, his dark eyes flashing with something that he couldn’t name, “the fuck are you doing here? You like to break into houses in your free time?”

How could he respond to that? Tendou gnawed on his lower lip, worrying it between his teeth until he could taste copper on his tongue.

Apparently he’d taken too long to respond. “Oh my god, the only acceptable answer to that is ‘ _no’_.” Semi gasped, audibly. Did he even have to breathe? “You _do_ like breaking into houses!”

“I don’t do it that often! But, like, I heard some rumours about this house and I thought it’d be cool to fuck around here and try to summon a ghost! And see where it led me!” Defiantly he looked right into Semi’s eyes once again, as if trying to provoke a reaction. But it wasn’t really like looking into someone’s eyes – it was more like seeing his own reflection in a mirror. He couldn’t even make out the colour of the other’s eyes - they looked black, like an empty abyss, and didn't reflect the warm light of the afternoon.

Semi rambled on, unperturbed. “You- I swear to god, you sound so fucking stupid. You’re so lucky I didn’t call the police, like-“

Tendou rolled his eyes. “You can’t even call the police.”

“Fuck you.” Semi spat, his face scrunching up in discontent.

“How very creative.”

“Look- whatever. I’m not mad.” Semi exhaled deeply to show that he was indeed not about to explode out of sheer anger. “This house isn’t inhabited anymore, as far as I can tell. Thing is- I don’t like the situation I’m in right now. I don’t like being whatever the fuck I am. So, like, for the love of god, help me out and I promise I won’t press charges, when I- when I come back.” He shushed Tendou when he tried to speak. “I’m not- not staying this way.”

“And how the fuck am I supposed to help you with that?” Who did Semi think he was? A goddamn necromancer? Did they even revive people? He made a mental note to look that up later on. 

“You fucking search for ghosts in your spare time, surely you know a way.”

Good point. He tried to remember what the instructions of the Ouija-board had provided him with. “I mean, yeah, ghosts apparently stay on earth because they have unfinished business there. So if you don’t remember anything, I can’t help you.”

Semi’s eyes hardened, determination shining through. “Alright, then let’s find out together. About what happened to me. Please, Tendou, help me.” Even though the words sounded like a plea, Semi’s tone certainly ruined the immersion.

Tendou sighed – an action he’d probably be doing a lot if he decided to stay with the ghost.

“That seems tedious, but since I am a good person, I’ll do it.” He refrained from reminding Semi once again that he was dead, that he wouldn’t suddenly come back to life, even if they found the cause of his death or what bound him to this place. He somehow… pitied the other, the lost look on his face and his inability to accept his demise. 

“Then we have a deal?” Semi asked hopefully, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. He must have been pretty when he’d still been alive, and probably not as grumpy.

Tendou nodded, as if that sealed their contract in any way. “It’s a deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have the other chapters planned out, but since this is my first real multi-chaptered work this may take a while
> 
> if there are mistakes, please point them out to me :)


	2. Jeg vil være der som du er

Leaving Semi alone for the time being to get to his own apartment was more of a feat than he had first anticipated. Considering how much the other seemed to dislike him at first, he _sure_ didn’t want to let go of his new-found ~~friend? saviour?~~ accomplice? It took a lot of convincing and promises of coming back, until Semi said his good-byes at the back door and watched him leave with mournful eyes, as Tendou closed the door behind himself.

But Tendou intended to keep his promise, so there he was, once again on the porch at the backside of the house, desperately trying to turn the knob and get in. He sighed, an annoyed expression flickering across his face, but gone in an instant – why the fuck did that ghost feel the need to lock the door? _Could_ he even lock the door?

The air was heavy; pregnant with the dry, sour afteraste that summer left in your mouth. Tiring, and draining your energy.

Something creaked behind him – it was just a quiet noise, but it awakened him from his stupor and he whirled around. Tendou scanned the backyard for any intruders, when a pale figure rose from the rusty swing and came towards him in large strides. It was Semi; the swing behind him stood unnaturally still.

“I didn’t lock the door,” was the first thing he said when he saw Tendou’s disbelieving gaze. Or maybe he’d just seen him fumble with door. In any case, he looked way too smug for his own good.

“And why,” he gritted his teeth, “oh why, dear Semi, can I not enter the house, then?”

The ash-blond shrugged languidly, dark eyes obscured by long lashes and gazing at him with a calculating look. “I dunno. Can’t get in, either.”

“You can’t just pass through it? How does that even work? You’re a ghost, for christ's sake!” Tendou still didn’t quite understand what the implications of being a ghost truly meant. How could he touch walls and doors and shit like he was a normal being, but any living being and even smaller objects glitched right through him? This made no fucking sense.

When Semi didn’t immediately answer, he continued rambling. “And what do you mean, you can’t get in either? How long have you been out here?”

Semi seemed to think about the question, one hand stroking his chin as his eyes clouded over, wallowing in memories. “Must’ve been a day now.”

“And your neighbours didn’t see you?”

Sighing, he shook his head. “I tried to make them notice me-“ Tendou mentally facepalmed at that –“but none of them could hear or see me. It’s like I don’t exist to them.” He huffed, and colour rose on his deathly pale cheeks. “Fucking pricks. No wonder I never liked living here.”

“You prolly shouldn’t do that again.” He sighed, massaging his temple with his thumb, pressing it into the soft flesh as he felt the first signs of an oncoming migraine. “Mind if I just kick the door in?”

Semi frowned at him. “I mean, I’d rather you not,” he started, but quickly changed his tone when he saw Tendou’s face, “but what do I care. Hell, it’s not my house, and a door is a small price to pay for a human life.” He sighed. “My parents are going to kill me.”

Tendou didn’t try to correct him, and faced the door instead, readying himself, mood suddenly lifted again at the prospect of causing mischief- or well, any damage at all. “What you’re about to watch is probably the most dangerous thing you’ll ever see in your entire life – or death.” Semi rolled his eyes, but he pretended not to notice. “So you better step back.”

When Semi had done as he had advised, Tendou raised his leg and softly tapped the door with his foot, earning him a bewildered look from Semi. “That was just so could see where I’d have to kick. Now is the time for action!” He explained himself to the ghost.

With a war cry he swung his leg back and kicked the door with all his might. The wood splintered beneath the ferocity of his kick and his foot was surrounded by splinters.

“You have a really flimsy door,” he noted out loud. Semi looked like he was having a breakdown on the inside. Tendou tried move his foot around a bit. “Nevertheless, my foot seems to be stuck.”

“Oh my god,” the other added, still not taking his eyes off of the scene that was currently transpiring in front of him. “You are- I can’t believe how much of an idiot you _really_ are. Who the fuck gets their foot stuck in a door?”

“Well, in my defence, who the fuck uses those flimsy American doors? They break if you even do as much as breathe!” He yelled back.

Semi tried to clasp his hand on Tendou’s mouth, but failed miserably. His right eye twitched. “Be any louder and my neighbours will notice you trying to break in.”

He recoiled at that – somebody calling the police would be a major setback; after all he had no way of proving that he wasn’t just a petty thief, and there were probably traces of his DNA all around the house. So he complied, his leg still at an awkward angle. “Fine. Then what do you propose I should do?” Tendou hissed.

“Get your foot out,” the other commanded authoritatively. He sounded so much in his element that Tendou was beginning to wonder what he’d done before his untimely death. Hastily he retracted his foot and tried his best to avoid each and every piece of wood that tried to scrape at his skin, which was harder than it had any right to be, especially when your other leg was getting wobbly. When his leg was out, he collapsed in front of the door, panting heavily. Sweat had gathered on his forehead and was running down the side of his face, periodically dripping onto the wooden floor.

Semi, on the other hand, was now trying to stick his upper body through the relatively narrow hole, probably searching for a way to open the door without damaging it any further. He _aha_ -d softly, and then appeared next to Tendou, crouching down. “Should be fine now,” he announced, his tone lax. Sometimes Tendou didn’t know if he was just putting on a façade or if he really was that calm. He was bound to find out sooner or later, he figured. “I don’t know what caused it, but everything is fine now. The key’s on the other side of the door, you just gotta grab it.”

The redhead scoffed, still rubbing his kind of red-looking leg and crawled towards the door, reaching through the hole and grabbing the key without looking. “Mind if I take it with me?” He asked, while already attaching it to his keychain. “So this doesn’t repeat itself.”

“No, it’s alright. We can always get the lock changed once I’m back.” He sounded so sure, relaxed, that it almost pained Tendou. Ignoring the pangs of guilt in his chest, he got up and stuck the key in the lock once again, turning it slowly. The door swung open without further ado.

They both stepped in and analysed the area – nothing was out of place, and the only footprints visible in the dust were Tendou’s own.

He shrugged, and together they made their way up the stairs, Tendou leading the way. Opening the door to Semi’s room, his haze lingered on the sign plastered to it, and a scowl began to form on his face.

Quickly shaking his head, he stepped inside, closing the door behind Semi and shutting each and every uncomfortable thought out. Semi regarded with his action with curiosity, his head cocked to the side, which gave him kind of a kicked-puppy-look. “Just don’t wanna be disturbed,” he mumbled quietly. Semi huffed out a laugh, as if the thought alone was ridiculous.

It was.

“So,” the blond said, sitting down on his bed and eyeing the toy on his nightstand.

“So,” Tendou echoed back, his back pressed against the door and watching Semi with hawk-like eyes. “Have you remembered anything, since I’ve last been here?”

Semi’s eyes didn’t stray from the painted truck; a relic from his past, Tendou mused. The silence pressed on both of them – heavy and suffocating and unnerving. When he couldn’t take it any longer, he opened his mouth to speak up once again, to ask if the other maybe hadn’t heard him.

“There are,” he cleared his throat, “there are – newspaper articles in the study. When somebody in our family died, he’d make a copy of the article and keep it.”

Tendou shot him a curious look. “Have you opened it?”

Semi shook his head, ashen hair not flattened by the heat, creating a halo around him. “Can’t.”

“Then how do you-“

Semi interrupted him. Had it been anyone else, in different circumstances, Tendou would’ve simply gotten louder himself. But it wasn’t. “He always did,” was the not very helpful response he got.

“’He’?” Tendou propped up one leg so the sole of his shoe could rest on the panel, and furrowed his brow. Semi was still watching the small truck, as if his life depended on it. Maybe it did.

“My Dad.” His voice broke.

“Shit, I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine. He gnawed on his lower lip and watched the other again. His face was pale and the strands of hair that hung around his face now looked lifeless. Dead. Like him.

He didn’t know this guy.

“How about we- we do that another day?” Tendou suggested meekly, barely raising his voice at all.

Semi finally looked at him, eyes wide and unblinking. “Why would we postpone this?”

Changing the leg he was standing on, Tendou laughed a dry, humourless laugh. “We still have time. Not like you’re gonna go anywhere, amirite?”

Semi’s face seemed to ease into a state akin to… peace? Maybe acceptance. “I suppose so.”

Tendou now left his place at the door in favour of walking over to the bed and kneeling down, resting his forearms on the dusty duvet right next to Semi’s feet. “How about,” he started, looking around the room for clues, “how about we first get to know each other? So we can work together, like a real team?”

The other boy shrugged, his face not unlike that of a porcelain doll.

“Should I start?”

He shrugged again.

“Alright,” he muttered, lazily dragging his finger through the dust. He noted Semi following the motion of his hand, felt his gaze resting on his face, but decidedly didn’t look up to meet his eyes. “Alright.”

He tried to think of something simple, something that wouldn’t immediately make the other boy think about his own death. “When were you born?” Yes. This was good. This was a conversation starter.

Semi’s hand fell next to Tendou’s, now also trying to make lines appear in the dust but failing to do so. The bed didn’t even dip where he sat. “In 1994.”

It was a short answer, but he could work with that.

“Nice! So you must be, like,” he counted in his head, “22 right now, correct? Then we’re not that far apart! I was kinda fearing that you died in, like, 1986 and would be around 30 now, like, dude, that’d be scary as hell!” He laughed loudly to relieve some tension. Shit.

Furrowing his brow, the other nodded uncertainly, forlorn. “So it’s- it’s 2016, at the moment?”

Tendou nodded. “Yeah,” then, as if he just remembered it, “I guess you didn’t- die in 2016, then?”

Semi shook his head. “It doesn’t feel like that.” Tendou didn’t bother to ask what it would have felt like if he _had_ died in 2016. Instead, he decided to just keep going.

“Good to know. By the way-“ he perked up, grinning- “I’m currently 20!”

Semi shot him a look. “Really? You look like 12.”

Tendou gasped in mock-horror, his hand clutching right above the spot where his heart should be. Maybe. He honestly couldn’t tell if hearts where on the right or the left side. “That hurt.” He said in a soft voice.

The other reached out to him, but recoiled slightly when his hand went right through Tendou’s in what probably had been meant as a comforting gesture. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“I’m just fucking with ya!” Tendou stuck his tongue out and pointedly ignored the other’s pouting face. “So, what do you do in your spare time?”

Semi seemed grateful that he used present tense, so he made a note to keep doing that. “Oh, uhm- I… I paint?” He said, his voice unstable. “Yeah, I really like drawing.” He nodded to himself, as if he was the one he had to convince.

That explained the easel in the study and the paint beneath his bed. “Anything else?”

“I- play the drums? And I like volleyball, I think.” Semi had started to chew on his fingernails, apparently deep in thought. “What about you?”

He didn’t notice Tendou beaming at him until the redhead scrambled forward and tried to grab his hands, but instead just face-planted onto the bed, eating a mouthful of dust. “No shit? I play volleyball too!”

Tendou grinned, excited, and Semi couldn’t help but grin back, warmth spreading in his stomach. The other couldn’t be half bad if he also played volleyball. “What position do you play in?”

Tendou got up at that and paced around the room in big strides, seemingly not able to contain his excitement. “I’m a Middle Blocker! I only really play on weekends though, college is a lot to deal with.”

“Apparently not enough to keep you from snooping in other people’s houses,” Semi murmured, but then his face lit up as well. “I was our team’s official setter until one of my- until a… a friend? Until a friend replaced me.” His smile fell. “What a fucking prick.”

Tendou nodded sagely. “Sounds like he is.” Then, an afterthought. “D’you think we ever played against each other?”

Shaking his head with such vigor that, for a moment, Tendou thought it’d fall right off, Semi answered. “No way in hell. I’d definitely remember a creep like you.”

Tendou made an indignant screeching sound and turned his head away, but decided not to pursue the provocation. “I’m just going to pretend I didn’t hear that, alright.” He could hear Semi chuckle. It was a warm, honey-like sound; a weird thing for somebody that felt so cold. “And what do you do, like, now?”

Semi sobered up at that. “Waiting, mostly. And- astral-projecting myself here?”

Tendou scowled. “Is it really astral projection when you’re dead?”

Semi pretended not to hear him, inspecting his nails instead. The afternoon sun made him glow slightly.

“Alright, then don’t answer me,“ he pouted, pulling out his phone. “So,” he started, opening the Pinterest-App.

Semi stared at him expectantly, gaze flitting between his face and the phone.

“So,” he repeated, when he found the thing he’d been looking for. The title of the post read: QUESTIONS TO ASK A GUY.

He quickly skimmed the list and then picked out a random question. “Just imagine. You are in charge of making insects a popular food item. You have 1 billion US dollars to achieve your goal. How do you do it?”

Semi stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. Maybe he had. Maybe he’d been imagining Semi all along. “What the fuck?”

Tendou rolled his eyes, giving the other a small smile. Probably not; a figment of his imagination couldn’t be so rude to him. “Just answer the question, dipshit.”

Semi scowled, but seemed to ponder the question nonetheless. “That’s easy-“ he raised his finger as if trying to lecture Tendou- “I would offer the 1 billion dollars to the first one who could prove that they’d eaten at least 500 kg of insects.”

“Smart thinking,” Tendou admitted, but Semi had already leaned over to where Tendou had his upper body propped up on the bed and was now trying to peek over Tendou’s shoulder.

“My turn now!” He announced, his cold breath on Tendou’s cheek, giving him goose bumps. “Scroll down a little,” he commanded. “This one’s good! Who are some people you only met once but they left a big impression on you?”

Tendou didn’t have to think very long. “I once met Beyoncé-“

Semi interrupted him, his voice disbelieving. “You met Beyoncé?”

“Well, in my dream-“ Semi groaned at that, “and she left a big impression on me. She told me, and I quote, that “Tendou would become a very big star in pop-culture and surpass everyone, her included, and that she then would adopt him”.”

Semi scowled. “I call bullshit”

“Take it or leave it.” He grinned at the boy so close to him. “What’s the most useless thing you know how to do?”

“That’s actually kind of hard,” he murmured into his hand, his eyes focused on the ground, “uhm… I can do the Antigravity Muscle Pass?”

Tendou stared at him. “The what.”

“Oh, it’s,” Semi looked around, searching for something. His eyes suddenly lit up and he got up, walked over to the cluttered desk and tried to pick up something small.

Tendou stood up as well, stretching his long legs and came to a halt next to Semi and stared at the object Semi was trying to pick up. It was a small, silvery coin. He took it in his hand instead, and Semi longingly stared at it as Tendou examined the rather cold coin. On one side it had the words ‘Liberte Egalite Fraternite 1977’, a branch and ‘1 Franc’ engraved, and on the other side a small woman and the words ‘Republique Française’.

He raised his eyebrow at the other. “So?”

“I mean, I can do coin tricks. Coach said it’d be good if I trained my motor abilities, like catching stuff and perfecting my timing and it kind of stuck with me.” He looked abashed.

Tendou fumbled around for words. “No- no! I think, that’s, like, super neat!” He smiled and hoped it looked encouraging, and not like he was trying to make fun of the other. “My dumbest trick is that I can solve 4x4 Rubik’s cubes in under 30 seconds! That’s way lamer!”

Semi shook his head, but a small smile played on his lips nonetheless. “Hardly. You should show me sometime, though.”

“Don’t worry, I will! Why’s your coin French, though?” He looked at it, questioningly, flipping it from one side to the other.

The boy smiled fondly at the coin. “My mum’s French- she gave it to me when I was younger.”

“Oh,” carefully, he placed it back on the table. Then, he heard a small sniff beside him. “Hey… is everything alright?”

Semi looked down at the coin as well. “It’s just- I miss her. I miss _them_ so much.”

Tendou didn’t know what to say. How did you console a dead person? He shuffled a little bit closer to Semi, the coolness of the ghost’s skin making the hair on his arm stand up. “It’s alright to miss them.”

Semi nodded, but his body still shuddered slightly. Hastily he wiped his sleeve across his eyes.

“And it’s okay to cry, too. You don’t need to hide it,” the redhead murmured softly.

Semi stood still for a second- then, “I just wish I’d had more time with them.”

Tendou sighed. “Sometimes you don’t know what’s going to happen- and then unpleasant things happen, because that’s how all of life works.”

The boy nodded. It looked forlorn; it looked hurt; it looked all too _human_.

“I’m sure we can do this, somehow.” He gave a small smile, and to his surprise, the other smiled back. It was weak and wobbly, but it was a start. “Is there anything I can do for you?” He asked.

Because damn him if he didn’t try to help this boy. This boy who was barely older than himself, and yet had died.

“Can you,” Semi’s voice was quiet, only audible because the room itself seemed to be listening. “Can you stay here tonight? I don’t want to be alone.”

Tendou nodded. “Sure,” he complied, and it didn’t even feel like a bother or an obligation. “Anything for you, Semi.”

And he meant it. There were too many maybe's as it was - he just wanted to feel sure, for once.

The other boy turned his gaze to the window; the setting sun illuminated his face with golden colours and gave his cold complexion a tint that seemed to convey liveliness; but it seemed all too wrong on a dead person. “I appreciate it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember me saying that i didnt know how often this would update? scrap that :)
> 
> nah, but really. This was the last day of my vacation so i probably will be busy with school stuff from now on. stay safe, y'all
> 
> btw, i actually can do a few really simple coin tricks (am not very good) and the coin that semi uses is actually the one i use most of the time because it works well for smaller hands.  
> on the other hand, the rubik's cube is a reference to one of my friends who is super good with that shit. He also collects them.
> 
> if you want the list tendou uses, [here](https://conversationstartersworld.com/questions-to-ask-a-guy/%22) it is


	3. Døden er bare begynnelsen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nothing is really graphic, but still, a quick warning for anyone who is triggered by stuff like suicide or blood.  
> it kinda took a lot of energy to write this and im still deeply uncomfortable - not because its shameful, but because it hits close to home.

When Tendou woke up the next morning, his head felt fuzzy and there was cotton in his mouth. Well, not literal cotton, but it sure tasted like that. He made a small, undignified retching noise before rubbing his head and heaving his body in an upright position, his head spinning at the sudden change.

His legs and lower back felt cramped from spending one night on a spare, too small futon on the floor, and he rubbed his eyes to get the sleep out of them, blinking himself awake.

In his peripheral vision he could see Semi laying on the bed, his form not covered by a blanket – mainly because it was summer, and partially also because he didn’t really need them either way and tended to glitch through – and blending into the white of the sheets, almost melting into them.

He looked peaceful, like a- like someone who had been asleep for a very long time.

Tendou shook his head, trying to get the thought out and got up to stretch. His bones cracked, and, finally satisfied, he let out a huge yawn, almost unhinging his jaw in the process.

Lazy sunlight shone through the window, and without checking his phone, he estimated it to be around maybe 6am. Way too early, at least for him, but they had stuff to do today after all.

From this point of view, he could see Semi better than from his position on the floor – the boy looked almost ethereal, otherworldly, and his chest neither lifted nor lowered in unison with breaths that he didn’t take anymore, his eyelids didn’t flutter and he lay completely still. Tendou wondered if ghosts could dream at all – he probably should ask the boy as long as he still had the chance.

It seemed silly.

Barefooted, he stepped over the futon that Semi had instructed him to get yesterday and walked over to the door, opening it as quietly as he could as to not rouse Semi from his ~~sleep~~ phase of unconsciousness.

Carefully he made his way down the stairs where he had deposited his rucksack when arriving yesterday and grabbed a can of coffee he’d gotten from a nearby vending machine as well as a few energy bars. He doubted that there was anything edible in that house, even though Semi still had not told him _when_ he’d died.

They’d have to get to the bottom of that today.

But first and foremost, it was breakfast time.

He ventured over to the kitchen and dragged a chair back, creating a pattern in the dust. Plopping down on it, its cushion soft, albeit dirty, he opened one of the bars and bit into it.

There certainly were better things than eating energy bars first things in the morning, but if you tended to eat ice-cream each morning, then there also were worse things. Like last night’s pizza or the burrito from the day before. While he thoroughly chewed his meal, his mind wandered back to Semi, how helpless and forlorn the other had seemed yesterday, how he was willing to trust an almost-stranger.

But then again, Semi had been thrust into his position just as Tendou had been. Hell, maybe even more so. He wasn’t the one who’d willingly tried summoning a ghost.

When he’d finished his meal and chugged his drink, Semi still wasn’t awake, so he decided to snoop around some more, starting with the living room.

It looked just how he’d left it, not that it surprised him, as no one had been here after all. At least no one who could change its appearance. His feet brought him over to the still-covered TV and he brushed his hand against the soft material, feeling it beneath his fingertips before grabbing it and yanking it down in one, long movement of his hand.

It fell into a heap to the floor, long forgotten.

Semi had an abundance of games – mainly older ones, but Tendou recognized the majority of them. They weren’t that far apart in age, after all. He frowned at the ghost’s choices, but found one or two he _did_ find interesting. Huh, maybe Semi would even let him play them.

Not that it mattered.

He didn’t notice that the other was there until a chill settled into his bones, making him shiver. “Didn’t hear you coming,” he said without turning around.

Semi snorted. “Yeah, no shit.” So much for a cool entrance. He looked over Tendou’s shoulder, noting the game the redhead was currently holding in his hands, his eyes scanning the cover and title. “Never played that one.”

Tendou clicked his tongue. “Damn, just wanted to ask you if you’d recommend it.” He put it back where it belonged and turned around, facing Semi. Dark bags had formed beneath his eyes, stark against the almost translucent skin there. Semi had apparently also grown taller – Tendou was just about to congratulate him for it, wanted to make a joke, until his gaze strayed to the floor.

He was hovering. His feet were a few centimetres above the wooden floorboards, not noticeably so, but still. It looked strange – unnatural and wrong. He decided not to comment on it. It would just freak Semi out.

Instead he put on his best grin and shot the other and encouraging look, pointedly not looking at his feet again. “Sorry for not waking you.”

Semi shrugged, his eyes unfocused and locked on a point behind his head. “Doesn’t matter,” he said, scratching his neck. “Are you- are you ready?”

He sounded anxious.

This had to be done.

“I so am. Are you?”

Semi made motions to shake his head, but seemingly decided otherwise last second. “Yeah, I suppose I am. I shouldn’t… delay this any longer.” He sounded defeated and Tendou wished nothing more than to make that disappear, to see him laugh and smile and be _happy_.

Instead he nodded, and it felt like a death sentence. “You shouldn’t,” he agreed, yet neither of them moved.

“It’s just-“ Semi started, his voice uncharacteristically small.

Tendou edged him on, curious about what the other was about to say. “Yeah?”

“I’m afraid of- of what we’ll find. I’m afraid of finding out of what kind of person I’ve been or what my de- what my _you-know-what_ tells about me.”

Tendou let the sentence run through his head, analysed and picked it apart. “You can’t shut the truth out, Semi,” he said, his voice subdued. It sounded wrong, wrong, _wrong._

“I know,” the other murmured, and the sun illuminated his almost-white hair. He seemed old for a 22-year-old. “We should get going.” He turned his back to Tendou and marched – floated – through the door, out into the hallway.

Tendou followed suit, not bothering to cover the TV again.

Semi went upstairs, his hand on the railing but not quite touching it. Tendou suspected it would go right though if he did. The stairs still creaked beneath his feet. Semi tried his best not to flinch every time it happened. When they stood in front of the study he motioned for Tendou to open the door and followed him afterwards, always close behind. His cold breath ghosted over Tendou’s neck, almost made his teeth chatter in the midsummer heat.

He suppressed the motion.

“There we are,” Semi breathed, and it sounded final. “They key’s in there-“ he gestured towards the cabinet. “He’s hid it in the Socrates book.”

Tendou nodded, his still bare feet loud on the floor as he made his way over to the cabinet and opened it. It creaked and got stuck after opening one third of the way, but with a little force he finally managed to pry it open. His fingers burned.

There were rows and rows of book inside, and he carefully scanned their covers, but it was fairly easy to locate Socrates, as Semi’s father had - thankfully - sorted them alphabetically. He took it out of its place and examined the cover – it was heavy and sticky notes jutted out from different pages.

He let himself drop to the ground and opened it at random.

Someone had cut out a part of the book and created a sort-of casket, where a small key lay, pressed tightly against yellowed pages and Greek words he could neither read nor understand. He took it out and put the book back in its original place, not wanting to disturb the peace that surrounded the room any more than he already had.

His hands shook as he neared the heavy desk, and he felt Semi’s gaze on his back, watchful and- and what?

Carefully he knelt down in front of it, the wooden floor pressing into his knees and shins. They would most likely bruise sometime later, but he had other things to worry about. “Which drawer?” He asked instead.

Semi crouched down next to him and pointed at the second one counting from the bottom.

With jittery hands he placed the key in its lock, and it fit as it should, turning around with ease. Tendou waited a moment before pulling the drawer out, not knowing what he would find.

The ghost tried to nudge him aside, wanted to see for himself, but almost fell through Tendou once again. It would’ve been laughable if they weren’t in such a serious situation.

He overcame his ~~fears~~ hesitation and pulled the drawer out completely, detaching it from its hinges and placing it on the floor.

Light shone on its contents – old newspaper articles and photographs and what seemed like a dry-pressed four-leaved shamrock.

Semi gasped, audibly. The sound rang in the room.

Tendou felt his breath taken away as he looked at the first heading on the newspaper that lay on top.

_WHY DID HE KILL HIMSELF?_

Accusatory, dark words, dripping with venom, sprang into his eyes and made his heart miss a beat.

It was dead silent in the room.

Semi didn’t breathe. Didn’t need to. 

No birds were chirping.

There was just

silence.

His hands weren’t cooperating when he tried to take it out.

It fell back into its casket, its grave.

He tried again, both Semi’s and his eyes fixated on the piece of paper.

Lifting it to his face, way closer than it actually needed to be, he scanned it.

_WHY DID HE KILL HIMSELF?_

_02.01.2015_

_Semi Eita, adored by both, classmates and friends, brilliant college student and member of a local volleyball team, has been found dead in his parents’ house this Friday evening by two of his close friends._

_The 22-year-old student had taken his life in one of the family’s bathrooms when his friends had shown up for their annual game night._

_Eita had not left a note explaining why he had decided to kill himself, and both family and friends of Eita previously had not noticed anything out of the ordinary and thus were shocked upon the discovery._

_Especially the two young adults, Watanabe Aiko and Takahashi Daisuke, who had initially found Semi have been shaken by the great tragedy._

_“I never would have thought that Eita-kun would do such a thing,” Aiko mentioned with tears in her eyes. “We simply wanted to spend some time with him, and then we got to his house and-” She stops talking at this point and has to be comforted by her close friend, Daisuke, who takes over. “I loved Eita like a brother and am deeply hurt that he would not even consider putting his trust in us,” he answers in her stead._

_Just why had this boy with a seemingly perfect life decided to take his life and leave family and friends behind? We will never know, it seems._

_Nevertheless, our prayers go out to his loved ones and we believe that he now is in a better place, smiling down on us._

_May you rest in peace, Semi Eita, and never be forgotten._

Tendou didn’t hear Semi’s agitated yells of “Stop!” and “No!” when his hands involuntary crumpled up the newspaper, the picture of a smiling Semi now scrunched up and his face disfigured. “Say that it’s not true,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

Semi was quiet for once, his mouth clamping shut.

“Say that it’s not true!” He demanded, his emotions boiling over. “It’s a lie, isn’t it? You surely didn’t-” He laughed, a dry and humourless sound, because the whole thing seemed so _bizarre_ , so surreal.

Semi was still quiet, staring at the floor, his head hanging low. “I- I don’t know.”

It sounded broken and Tendou wanted to do nothing more than take the boy into his arms. Instead, he yelled. “How can you not know, huh? How?” It sounded so angry, so accusatory, that he couldn’t even begin to recognize himself in this mess he’d become. He didn’t even know _why_ he was so angry; it just felt… right to be disappointed. To be hurt.

Nothing good ever came from meddling with the dead.

The ghost’s head was in its hands now, its hands tangled in matted strands of hair. The colour seemed to be leaving its body, seeping out like blood. “I don’t know!” it cried out as if it was in pain. But ghosts couldn’t feel pain, could they? “I don’t understand! I didn’t!”

Tendou looked at it coolly - it all seemed so _wrong_ , somehow. Yet he couldn’t differentiate right from wrong anymore. The edges were just too blurred.

“You have to believe me!” The ghost continued, babbling on and desperately trying to grab his arm with its long, spindly fingers. Blood ran down its forearms, droplets falling into the dust, mangling with it and then disappearing into nothingness. It looked so real; he couldn’t possibly avert his eyes. “Please! Please don’t leave me behind!” It sobbed unrestrainedly, its voice almost _begging_ him.

He finally comprehended why the bathroom smelled like that. Finally comprehended why the ghost didn’t want to leave – it felt _guilty_. 

There was nothing he could do for it.

But it wasn’t done with him. “You can’t leave now! Not after you promised me to stay!” it cried, its voice hoarse.

It was too much.

He buried his head in his hands, trying to block out the ghost’s yells. His head hurt. Like, it actually hurt. Pretty damn much.

Tendou tried to calm his breathing but there was something stuck in his throat and _Semi was too close and everything was slowly but surely suffocating him and he had to get out of here now or else-_

He bolted.

Not his proudest moment for sure, but oh well.

* * *

He was sitting on the porch, somehow squeezing his legs through the wooden bars and swinging them around. The chirping of the cicadas echoed in his head.

Something just… didn’t make sense. Or maybe he just didn’t know anything about interpersonal relationships, wo knew. He sighed, leaning his forehead against the railing, warmed by the relentless sun. He hadn’t signed up for this, really.

The air grew colder around him when Semi stepped out of the house, uncertainly standing behind him and- wow, he’d never thought Semi of all people would be uncertain about anything.

“Are you mad?” Semi asked after a few seconds of tense silence, the air between them taut with some emotion he couldn’t name.

He shook his head. “Not at you. At myself, maybe. For getting into this mess.”

Semi settled down beside him, careful not to get too close to him. “I don’t know what happened,” he confessed, staring out at the horizon. The setting sun caught in his hair, almost creating a halo around his head. And wasn’t that ironic?

“I know,” Tendou answered, although he couldn’t really know because he'd met Semi not too long ago-

But he’d made a promise, he couldn’t leave him now. Not even if he wanted to, not even if Semi had _actually_ -

There was no way Semi would’ve done that, right? Nothing in his demeanour had pointed to him being suicidal, hell, he even wanted to come _back_ to life. People who wanted to die didn’t do that, right?

Tendou took in the boy beside him and sighed, dislodging the thing in his throat. Then his gaze dropped to the newspaper, still crumpled in his hand, and flattened it out with the palm of his hand, gazing at a happy, younger Semi. “You know what? I believe you.”

Semi’s head – no, Eita’s head – whipped up at that. “You- you actually do?”

Tendou nodded, his face grim, but determined. “I do, Eita. I don’t think you killed yourself.”

He breathed in deeply – not that he needed to – and Tendou watched as a spark of ~~life~~ determination lit his eyes once again. For the first time since he’d met the boy, he could clearly see his eye-colour – it was a dark, deep brown, like mocha, or burnt caramel. The warm light of another evening in summer reflected in his irises and lighter specks appeared to dance around his pupil. Eita could probably name each and every shade. 

The boy in question rubbed at his eyes, pink tinting his cheeks. Then he noticed the picture Tendou was holding in his hands. “I never really liked that picture,” he commented in a dull voice.

Tendou cocked his head to the side. “Why? I think you’re cute in it.”

“No,” Eita’s breath hitched, “that’s not it.” His eyebrows were drawn together and he appeared to be thinking, gnawing on his lower lip. He looked- cute. Maybe even cuter than in the picture. “One of my… friends took it. I told her to delete it.”

Something clicked inside his head, as if a switch had been flipped. Seemed to be a recurring thing nowadays. Maybe he should become a private investigator.

“One of the friends that found your- your body?” He asked tentatively, not wanting to upset the other. “Or the other that you told me of before?”

“No, not the other. One of them,” Eita said, and he sounded certain, no trace of doubt in his voice. “Not that long ago.”

“Huh.” Tendou rubbed the nape of his neck, his hair bristling. “You reckon they’re still in the area?”

Eita didn’t have to think long. “Still in the area. They’re attending a college around here.”

“And you think they know something?” It seemed all too fitting, too coincidental.

Eita paused for a second, his gaze lingering on the picture and then locking with Tendou’s. “They have to. If it’s true and they found me, then they’re only lead we have – the only ones that might know something.”

It made sense.

He didn’t like the idea, but he’d promised to help out, and that entailed questioning Eita’s friends even if it made them uncomfortable. He nodded.

“I’ll go talk to them tomorrow, alright? See where I can find ‘em.” Pointedly he looked towards the slowly darkening sky, afternoon turning into dawn and swallowing the last rays of sunlight. Wispy leaves rustled against the closed window, making shadows dance across the floor.

“You don’t need to look for them,” Eita said and he was about to retaliate when the other continued, unbothered, “I already know where they are.” He got up and, beckoning Tendou to follow him into that damned room again and patiently stood next to the desk where he seemed to be waiting for something. 

Tendou got the hint and stood up as well, once again stretching his legs that felt slightly numb, following Eita to the desk.

The boy just pointed towards a heavy-looking file, which Tendou opened obediently.

“Look for Takahashi first,” the boy commanded, the authority in his voice once again. “There should be an address written there. My dad used to write them down. Watanabe’s as well.”

Why would they need an address, he could just visit them on campus-

Actually, he couldn’t. Oh, these kids nowadays with their damn summer holidays.

He decided to point it out. “Won’t they be on vacation?”

Eita shook his head. “They never really liked to travel. That’s why they decided to study around here. They’ll be at home.” At least the guy knew his friends.

Tendou, in the meantime, had browsed the file and noted down their names and addresses on another piece of paper with a fancy fountain pen that lay on the desk. The girl’s address was closer, so he probably would question her first.

Tomorrow.

His eye twitched.

Would they actually find out what had happened? Would Eita’s friends be able to talk about such a traumatising event?

Questions upon questions that just _demanded_ an answer; that couldn’t be left alone.

Just what had he gotten himself into?

But he ~~couldn’t~~ wouldn’t bail now. Not when the truth was _so_ close.

He noticed Eita looking at him and decided to send him a smile, and to his surprise the other smiled back.

“Thanks again for believing me,” Eita said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, and real gratitude dripped from his words. The gashes on his forearms had closed up, but the scars still were there and he could barely avert his eyes from the nasty, ugly things that blemished Eita’s otherwise perfect skin.

Were they just what Eita imagined himself to look like?

Or were they, in fact, a sign of what really had transpired here?

Eita noticed him staring and abashedly looked down. “I don’t- actually know how to make them go away, now that they’re here. But-” his voice broke, the rest of the sentence hanging in the air.

“But what?”

“I can cover them up if they make you uncomfortable.”

Tendou slowly breathed out, closing his eyes. “No. You don’t need to. I don’t mind all that much. Not if they’re part of what makes you _you_ _._ ”

Eita snorted an actual pig-like snort. “That sounded wrong, man.”

Tendou’s eyes flew open so wide that he was afraid they’d pop out of his skull. “What? I was just being honest! Embrace the tenderness!” He smirked at the boy across him whose ears had gone red in an instance.

“You’re so annoying,” he muttered under his breath, almost too quiet for Tendou to hear.

“Thanks, I try to live by that.” Before Eita could say anything else, he motioned to the door. “Wanna go downstairs and maybe watch a movie while I raid your kitchen for any leftover popcorn?”

Eita already was on the way there, his hand on the doorknob when it- when it slipped right through. He didn’t notice, as he had turned around to face Tendou. “Good luck with finding that, considering my parents never bought any because I didn’t like it.” He slipped through the door before Tendou could retaliate, leaving him dumbfounded. And maybe a little concerned.

Hastily he went to the door, ripping it almost out of its hinges and- found Eita standing on the other side, perfectly fine and facing the staircase.

“You coming or what?” He asked playfully, floating down.

Tendou obliged, trying to push him down but almost tumbling down the stairs himself.

Eita laughed, a high, heart-warming sound, not bothered by Tendou falling though him and started naming movies he liked and would like to rewatch.

Immediately Tendou began to retort, shooting each and every suggestion down – but making a list in his head nonetheless, so he could watch them later.

All thoughts about tomorrow were pushed aside for now; life could be so peaceful. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda low; just like me.  
> we're one and the same.
> 
> anyhow.  
> why cant i write newspaper articles? i dunno.  
> why do i like angst? i dunno.  
> will i ever stop? n o


	4. Jeg hadde ingen å elske

Driving to the house of a random girl that he didn’t know first thing in the morning sure was enticing. As enticing as kissing a dead cow, in fact.

Tendou groaned as his hands tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles white as he gripped it, afraid of accidently letting go. He was just so goddamn tired.

Moodily he clicked on a random station and turned the volume up; at once, Metallica started blaring through his car, almost deafening him in the process. At least he wouldn’t fall asleep now.

If it wasn’t for _fucking_ Eita and his _fucking_ kicked-puppy look, he wouldn’t be so tired now. The boy had forbidden him to drink any more energy drinks, _and_ had kept him awake the entire night – not that he minded; he’d enjoyed spending time with him, but still. Just because Eita didn’t need to sleep didn’t mean Tendou was magically exempt from it either.

But it was what it was, and now he was on his merry way, blasting Metallica as his eyes squinted at the road that seemed out of focus. But just slightly.

Eita had decided to stay at his house, and it was probably better that way, as they didn’t know if he could even leave the property he was bound to.

They didn’t want to find out either.

The boy bid him farewell, and had stood in the driveway until Tendou had lost sight of him in the rear view mirror, gazing after him. Eita didn’t look gloomy, but he wasn’t glad about it either, that much he could tell.

If all things went well, he’d be back by noon, he calmed himself, thinking of another peaceful night that he could spend with Eita. He had – embarrassingly enough – grown fond of the boy and his quirks. He wouldn’t tell Eita though. The boy was conceited enough as it was.

Tendou sighed and rubbed his temples, the light of the early morning doing nothing to soothe an oncoming headache that tended to appear if you hadn’t gotten enough sleep the night before. Maybe he’d just pull over and get a coffee or something – it wouldn’t even take ten minutes.

He didn’t.

Instead he drove on, right through the city centre and to a small apartment-complex on its Eastside, located near a park. How idyllic. Traffic wasn’t that bad during the early hours of morning, and the fact that most people were away on vacations only helped the fact. Thus the only really problem he encountered on his way was almost causing an accident when his eyes slipped shut for just a moment. Thankfully he’d managed to swerve aside the last second – the other driver had probably cursed at him, but what did he care. He had a mission, there obviously were more important things.

Locating the building wasn’t hard – securing a parking spot slightly harder, though. The nearby parking lot was completely full, so he left his car a few streets away, close to a small bakery.

Tendou got out of the car and closed the door with more force than necessary, the sound ringing in his ears, but effectively cutting of the music from inside his car. Still tired, he yawned and wistfully eyed the small shop. A sweet, delicious scent wafted towards him.

Just… a coffee and a croissant wouldn’t hurt, right?

At the mere thought of a _real_ breakfast, for once, he almost started drooling.

 _No,_ his inner voice – that sounded exactly like Eita – commanded, _you can get breakfast after you’ve done your job._

Begrudgingly, he complied. God, what he wouldn’t do for the boy.

Head hanging low and his hair deflated, he stalked away from the shop, only turning around once to sadly look at it and make a promise that he’d come back later. After a few metres of walking in a random direction he got his phone out and pulled up Google Maps, typing the address painfully slow into the search bar. Cursing the speed of the browser, he examined his surroundings for a moment until a quiet _ping_ notified him. Dutifully he looked down, and started following the shown way once again, his eyes glued to the small device in his hands.

After running into four light posts and two other people – both of whom had apologised profusely – later, he stood in front of the complex, looking up at the building. It was… tall, to say the least. Very tall and very grey.

How could such a depressing building be built next to such a lovely park?

Whatever.

He walked up to the door and scanned the names on the plate, each one next to a touchpad that was most likely connected to a bell inside the flats.

Suzuki… Anderson... Jones… Nakamura… finally, the fifth name was the long awaited ‘Watanabe’. Gleefully he pressed on the touchpad, waiting for the usual sound that’d let you know the other had turned on the intercom. He didn’t have to wait long.

 _“Watanabe speaking, how may I help you?”_ A staticky voice said, but it was no doubt that of a woman. There was low chatter in the background; maybe the TV was running.

Tendou cleared his throat, his face close to the intercom. “Good morning. I’m Tendou, a-“ he hesitated for a second, “a friend of Eita’s. May I come up?”

The voice on the other side didn’t answer for a second – not that he blamed her – and her voice sounded thin when she spoke up once again. _“Of course. I’ll let you in.”_

That… wasn’t as hard as he’d expected it to be. A buzzing sound appeared and cautiously he pressed against the heavy door, pushing it open with his entire body. The interior was as bland as the outside and for a moment he was disoriented by all the grey. Then he saw the sign on the wall. He skimmed it, eyes searching for the familiar name.

_Watanabe Aiko: 4 th floor, no. 232 _

Grinning to himself, he bounced towards the elevator, shoes clicking against the polished, tiled floor. No way in hell would he climb all those stairs right now.

Patiently he waited until the elevator was there before he got inside, pressing the 4 on its shiny panel and waiting for the door to close. It was unreasonably spacious, but just as monotone as everything else. A large mirror was embedded in its ceiling.

Once it had reached its destination he strutted out, purposefully walking through the rather narrow corridor and checking the name tags on the walls.

  1. 217\. 221. 228. 232.



He halted in front of a sterile, sturdy-looking door, painted grey and white. A slate was nailed to it, the name _Watanabe_ in cursive writing on it.

He knocked, and his heart pounded in his ears.

“Coming!” A voice yelled, and before he could run his hand through his hair one last time, the door flew open and a rather small, slim young woman, wearing a silky tank top and shorts, stood in the doorway and scrutinized him, her gaze running up and down his body. He felt like prey.

Then she smiled. “Hello, Tendou-san.” She greeted him, like you would greet an old friend. “It’s so nice to see you.” She beckoned him inside with a wave of her hand, her almond-shaped, light eyes never leaving him.

The inside of her flat was as cold as everything outside – grey walls, grey floor, grey furniture. She led him past an open living room with a huge window facade and to the kitchen, a small, but clean place, several plants and succulents on the counter and table, and motioned for him to sit. “Have you had breakfast yet?”

He shook his head. “I’m not hungry, though,” he lied, but his stomach decided to betray him in this exact moment by emitting a loud growl. He felt his face turn red.

A smile graced the woman’s face once again, teeth showing slightly through her red lips. “What would you like?” She asked, her voice kind and sweet.

He shuffled awkwardly with his feet. “Oh, uhm… I dunno, a coffee maybe?”

She nodded. “I’ll make you one. I’m sure I have some pancakes left as well, if you’d like some?”

Before he could answer, she was already gone, rummaging through the fridge with one hand and plugging in the electric kettle with the other one. Triumphantly smiling, she pulled out a plate with a generous amount of stacked pancakes and set it into her microwave, pressing a number of buttons to reheat them.

Then she prepared two mugs, one for coffee and one for green tea and filled them with the boiled water.

It certainly didn’t take longer than five minutes until breakfast was served to him, and at this point he was probably gawping at her. This woman was crazy efficient. She set the meal in front of him and smiled again, an action that was probably ingrained in her. “Here you go.”

He thanked her and, despite knowing better, dug in, watching her from the corners of his eyes as her hands curled around her tea. She was watching him back, only shortly averting her eyes to type something on her phone.

It was so much more than he’d signed up for – the woman was a goddess when it came to cooking. He privately wondered if she was a chef at a restaurant. Only when he’d eaten enough did he push the plate away, nursing his coffee and taking small, deliberate sips. Such a bless.

The woman cleared her throat. “You said you… came because of Eita?” Her voice sounded timid, and he immediately felt bad for her. Losing her best friend must’ve been a great shock.

“I did,” he agreed, toying with the cup in his hands. Fine China, probably handed down to her. “I’m sorry if you don’t want to talk about it, but I need to know some things.”

She sighed, but didn’t show any other signs of obvious discomfort. “No, it’s alright. I just wondered… who are you, exactly? He never talked about a Tendou, and I’ve never seen you with him, either.”

Tendou racked his brain for an explanation. He couldn’t very well tell her that he’d met the boy after his death. “Oh, I, uh-“ laughing, he scratched his head- “I uhm… met him during a volleyball match a few years prior and I only now, uh… decided to look at the- the commemorative picture, y’know, and I wanted to check up on him and then found out that he, y’know...”

Despite his stuttering, she seemed convinced by the lie. Well, that had been easy? She was a very… trusting woman. “Oh, I’m so sorry you had to learn about it like that.”

He nodded; he was kind of sad that he’d had to get to know Eita like this – he would’ve loved to meet the boy as a breathing, alive human being. But there was no use lamenting over that now. Instead he put on his best sad face, mirroring his emotions on the inside. “I just- could you tell me about… that evening? When I met him, I never imagined him to be _that_ kind of person.”

She looked at him, sadness and pity and something he didn’t recognize in her eyes. It made him bristle. “There’s… not much to say,” she answered, idly tracing the rim of her mug, staring down into it as steam rose up, “we just… wanted to meet up with him.” She halted, her breath hitched in her throat.

Tendou averted his gaze, not wanting to pressure her any more than he already had. “It’s alright if you can’t or don’t want to talk about it,” he said, hoping that she wouldn’t heed his words. Hoping to get a glimpse of the truth out of her.

“It’s alright,” she choked and wiped her hand across her face. It came away dry. “I- need to get this out of my system.”

She took a deep breath and seemed to steel herself, still not looking at him. “So,” she finally continued after what felt like an eternity, “we… went to his house and- we knocked at first but he didn’t answer.”

Tendou had started to watch her face, every small contortion of her face and emotion that she showed.

“At first we didn’t- think anything of it. It was right after New Year’s Eve… maybe he was just hungover… and anyhow, we had a key.”

Strangely enough, he felt like reaching across the table and patting her hand. He refrained from doing so, frowning at himself.

“Daisuke let us in and- you know, Eita had called us the day before because he’d wanted to meet up with us to… to celebrate something. I can’t remember what, I’m so sorry!” Real, fat tears were dripping down her cheeks, splashing onto the granite table and into her mug.

Awkwardly Tendou searched his pockets for a tissue and held it out to her, but she declined with a small shake of her head.

“And we- we got inside and it was so _quiet_. It’s never quiet when Eita is around… and- we knew that Shirabu had been invited, too.” She curled up her lip in distaste, as if she’d eaten something sour or rotten.

Tendou didn’t comment on it.

“So we thought that… maybe they were upstairs. You know, they always kind of seemed to have… _something_ going on between them, even if they didn’t show it. But then I- I remembered that… Shirabu had cancelled because of something stupid, because that’s what he always does.”

He started gnawing on his lower lip – something didn’t sound right. Surely Eita would’ve told him about a past relationship, right? But Watanabe was already continuing, not paying attention to him but fully immersed in telling her story.

“So we- we- we went upstairs and called for him again. But we still got no answer… and Daisuke said he’d look into Eita’s room, and- he told me to look in the bathroom…”

She broke off at this point, burying her head in her hands and sobbing uncontrollably, her shoulders shaking. It was a miserable sight and he- he _couldn’t_ …

Tendou got up and swiftly moved around the table to lightly pat her shoulder, letting her feel that he was there. “It’s… alright.” He was really, _really_ bad at comforting people.

She just sobbed louder, but somehow managed to babble on through the tears and mucus. “And I- I knocked and when he didn’t- answer I o-opened the door and saw him, lying there… in the bathtub- a-a-and there was blood… e-everywhere… and his eyes stared at me and I _screamed-_ “

Tendou felt the blood freeze in his veins despite the warmth of the apartment, felt like screaming too – maybe like throwing up. What if- what if they’d been wrong… what _if…_

“And then Daisuke rushed in and he… called the ambulance and ushered me out… and I- I really _liked_ Eita and it hurt so much… and when the paramedics arrived,” she paused to swallow, the actions paining her, “they told us that he hadn’t been de- _like that_ for long… that if we’d just arrived a few minutes earlier we could’ve _saved_ him…”

Her head was almost on the table at this moment, her long, black hair pooling lifeless around her pale face and framing it artfully. He just wanted to sweep it aside, to tell her it hadn’t been her fault-

He didn’t know this girl at all.

But it was _compassion_ , wasn't it? A completely human response for a normal human being.

While he'd argued with himself, the girl had used her silky top to wipe her tears away, leaving wet stains on the fabric. She miserably gazed up at him, her eyes red and swollen and mascara running down her cheeks. Watanabe grabbed his arm and her nails almost pierced his skin; her hands were shaking like she’d just witnessed the scene again – and maybe she had, in her mind.

But something- something didn’t sit right with Tendou. He replayed the conversation in his head and- no, he wouldn’t need to question the other guy, no question. He’d tell the exact same story. Maybe. Probably.

He’d have to…

Tendou placed his hand, strong and calloused, on her tiny one, feeling how cold it was. “Do you, perchance, know where I could find Shirabu?”

She frowned at him- obviously hearing something she hadn’t expected. “Oh- I… uhm… Yeah… the volleyball court near the- the river, I guess. Why? What do you want with him?” She eyed him suspiciously, her forehead scrunching up in thought.

“Nothing, just wanna check up on him. See how he’s doing, regarding-“ Tendou waved around a little- “this.”

“Wait,” she said, dragging the ‘a’ out, “wouldn’t you rather- stay a while? He’s… hard to deal with, really unfriendly… I wouldn’t waste my time on him.” She seemed desperate, her eyes pleading him to stay.

Tendou shot her a calculated look. “I think I’ll be fine, so if you’ll excuse me now,” he carefully manoeuvred his wrist out of her grip. “Thanks for the breakfast, though, I appreciated it.”

She looked at him, dumbfounded, her jaw almost on the table. “You can’t just leave!” She screeched, the sound shrill and too high.

He paid her no mind, instead strutting over to the door and pushing it open, ignoring the yelled “Wait!” and “Don’t listen to him!”. As he closed the door he could hear her frantically talk to someone- but there had been no one here, except them. He couldn’t understand what the other person said, either.

Tendou bolted down the stairs, skipping every second step, not bothering with the elevator now that he was wide awake and threw the entrance door open, leaving the stuffy building behind once and for all.

Now that the sun was shining down on him, warming him up and making the claustrophobic feeling he’d had go away, he took out his phone and searched for volleyball court near the river.

And lo and behold, there was one not even 10 minutes away from him! He could hardly believe his luck.

Tendou patted himself on the shoulder, a motion that made the other pedestrians steer clear of him, and went Google’s recommended way.

His route went right though the park, and despite not being a fan of nature, he enjoyed the peaceful sounds and the soft chirping of birds. People were picnicking on the lawn, colourful blankets on the ground and talking quietly amongst themselves. He stayed on the path and didn’t stray from it, but, not unlike a sponge, he absorbed this onslaught of new information sensory inputs. 

It wasn’t too long before the silence was disturbed by louder chatter, though, and he came face to face with an outdoor volleyball court, occupied by several younger adults that screamed tactics and moves to each other.

Tendou watched for a few seconds, mesmerized. The team on the right side acted so in sync that it was almost scary, their setter adjusting to each and every player, melting them together and creating a homogenous whole, breathing, living being.

Quickly he shook his head and left the cool shadow of the trees, the sun now glaring down on him. It smelled of heat and smoke, and the light that reflected off the surface of the water hurt his eyes.

The boys on the court were rather invested in their game and took no notice, so he ventured over to a guy standing near, looking like he wanted to play. He was of average height with a blue streak amidst his otherwise blond hair.

“Hey,” he said right into his ear, and the other boy flinched back, “d’you know which one Shirabu is?”

The boy, maybe a few years younger than himself, fearfully shook his head, so Tendou patted him on the head, sighed and moved on. He felt the boy’s eyes follow him, but didn’t look back.

Next up was a girl; tall – maybe around his height – and brunette.

Tendou sidled up next to her and folded his hands behind his back, bobbing up and down on his heels.

The girl glared at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he answered idly, “just-”

She sighed, cutting him off. “No, you can’t play with them, no matter how good you might think you are.”

He shot her an affronted look. “Actually, I just wanted to know which one Shirabu is.”

“Oh.” She looked at him for a moment and then turned to the court once again. It seemed that he wouldn’t get an answer here; he should-

“There,” she pointed to a smaller, copper-haired boy – the magnificent setter from before, Tendou’s mind supplied – and continued, “just don’t tell him I told you his name.” With that she stalked away – Tendou didn’t find it in himself to miss her.

Instead he waited for an exchange of players – and in this kind of weather, he didn’t have to wait long. Shirabu seemed tired, having obviously played for a few hours now at least, and soon switched out to let another, bulkier guy take his place.

The boy stood aside, not talking to anyone, and drank from a water bottle, sweat running down his arms. Tendou approached him slowly, not wanting to scare him off. Before he could even open his mouth, Shirabu beat him to it.

“Spit it out,” he said, swallowing another mouthful of water, one hand at his waist.

Tendou came to a halt next to him, eyeing him. The boy really was petite- he decided not to beat around the bush. “You knew Eita,” he stated. It wasn’t a question.

Shirabu’s eyebrows inched higher on his face. “I don’t see how that is relevant to you,” he said coolly, his voice hoarse. Maybe from the exhaustion, maybe from something else.

The sky was blue. Shirabu next to him was red. Bare facts.

There was _something_ beneath the surface, something he couldn’t quite grasp.

“I was a friend of his-“ he started, but Shirabu’s snort cut him off.

“Eita didn’t do _friendships_.”

He could kind of see what Watanabe had meant when she talked about something going on between them. Nevertheless, he couldn’t bring himself to dislike the kid, so he just allowed himself a small smirk.

“Maybe not before.”

Shirabu was quiet, but his hand holding the bottle tightened. Water spurted out of it, and bewildered he looked down, before loosening his grip.

“Anyhow,” Tendou continued, his eyes on the court, “I wanted to talk to you. Thought it might clear things up.”

The boy beside him looked fragile, like he might break if pushed a little too hard. “Alright,” he agreed.

Success.

He motioned for Shirabu to sit down and then plopped into the grass beside him, immediately starting to rip out grass and twiddle it around his fingers. Nervous habit. “You were invited to a party shortly after New Year’s Eve, right?”

Shirabu nodded in confirmation. “Affirmative.”

God, did he sound like a stuck-up prick. Maybe he was just that – an arrogant, snooty, spoiled child. He certainly looked like it; his hair was artfully swept to one side, with even bangs that parted like the Red Sea did for Moses.

“And you didn’t show up?”

“No, since I am the team’s official setter _I_ had training to attend to.” His voice was sharp, but there was no real malice behind his words. “Just because Eita was slacking didn’t mean I had to follow his example. And besides-“ He cut himself off, staring down.

“Besides what?” Tendou edged him on.

“Besides,” Shirabu frowned at the ground, “his other… _friends_ were coming.”

Tendou eyed him curiously. “You don’t like ‘em?”

Shirabu furiously shook his head. “God, no. Have you met Watanabe?” He almost spit her name out, like it belonged in the dirt he walked on. “Goddamn bitch.”

“Why?” Tendou pressed on.

“She,” he paused to think, his cheeks heating up with- anger? “She’s just such a goddamn fake bitch.” Unconsciously he started picking at his fingers, the skin there red and raw. “She- she once told me she _fancied_ me. Told her ‘no’. There was nothing to debate.” Shirabu was sneering, the memory obviously not a good one.

Tendou hung onto his every word. “And then?”

“Tried kissing me and got all mad and defensive when I didn’t reciprocate her feelings. _How could I not like her back?_ She scratched me.” As if to prove this, he rolled up his sleeve a little so Tendou could see a faint, but visible scar right beneath where his shoulder met his torso. This didn’t seem to fit with the sweet girl he’d met maybe an hour prior.

He looked right into Shirabu’s eyes, searching. “Were you and Eita like… a thing?”

He needed a straight answer.

Shirabu furrowed his brows. “Never. But she still always nagged him about it. ‘ _Don’t spend so much time with him, Eita-kun! You have me now!_ ’” His imitation of her was oddly accurate, high-pitched and nasal. “And Takahashi wasn’t any better.”

“How so?”

Shirabu inhaled deeply through his nose, as if only thinking about them brought him pain. “Her fucking lapdog. She had him wrapped around her little finger. He would’ve done anything for her.”

Tendou thought about this new information for a second, wondered how it fit into the big picture.

The other boy looked at him. “Do you- do you think he actually killed himself?” His tone was hesitant and almost lost in the clamour around them.

Shaking his head, his gaze wandered up, following a small bird across the sky. “No, I don’t think so.” He almost missed Shirabu’s soft ‘Me neither.’

He cleared his throat. “And I’m trying to get to the bottom of that.”

Shirabu nodded at him, his eyes serious. “Good luck.” But his heart wasn’t in it. Or maybe it was just the lack of the usual sharpness in his voice. He reminded him of Eita. “I- may not have gotten along with him that well, but still… I didn’t want him to die.”

With that the conversation was over for him and he got up, strolling over to the rest of his teammates - a tall, ginger kid was waving at Shirabu, trying to get his attention - to converse with them.

Tendou was alone.

Conflicting answers – and he knew neither of them very well. Who could he trust?

It was best to tell Eita about both of them and let him decide – he knew them better.

Tendou sighed and got up, his bones creaking and the shirt clinging to his skin. Shooting one last look at Shirabu, he turned around and went back into the park.

He so looked forward to seeing Eita again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're coming to a close, i think. at least to the climax. 
> 
> that wasnt the last you'll ever see of watanabe, though. she might just be back next chapter


	5. Du må godta deg selv

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahahah im tired again, who would've thunk. me not, apparently. 
> 
> its stressful, navigating through your C2 exam and trying to study for like 50 tests and doing homework and having a private life.
> 
> Writing for a niche thing is cool until you realize no one reads your writing

Coming back to Eita felt like coming home. Not that he’d ever admit that.

As soon as he parked in the driveway and exited the car, pocketing his keys on the go, Eita came bolting down the stairs to greet him, like an overexcited puppy would do. Or a housewife; same thing, to be fair. The boy smiled at him and made a hugging motion, but ultimately decided against it the last second.

He was floating a little higher now even though he still didn’t reach Tendou’s height, and the redhead could make out blurred shapes and colours through Eita’s transparent, milky form.

“I’ve missed you,” the boy said at that exact moment, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips and all thoughts concerning his predicament were forgotten.

Instead, Tendou smiled back. “I’ve only been gone for a few hours,” he retorted and together, their hands touching _(if they could)_ , they went up the porch and inside the house.

Everything still looked the same, because why wouldn’t it? Not like Eita could change its appearance even if he wanted to. They stumbled upwards in the direction of Eita’s room – the boy felt the most comfortable there and Tendou didn’t mind, he just liked being in Eita’s vicinity – joking and laughing, all sorrows forgotten for the time being. 

And it felt good, as if a great weight had been lifted off of him – maybe they’d find out what happened, maybe they could reverse it somehow if they got their answer, maybe he’d get the chance to experience a living, breathing Eita.

Maybe everything was coming together.

Tendou sat down on the bed and Eita took the spot across him, plopping down with the gracefulness of a drunkard. Despite being a ghost, he was nothing like an ethereal being. Well, except the smile that graced his face. His pale fingers glitched through the checkered duvet, but neither of them minded.

“So?” he asked in a curious tone. “You didn’t take as long as I thought you would. Did something go wrong or…?”

He trailed off but he didn’t need to finish the sentence either. Tendou knew what he was getting at.

“Nah,” he answered, deciding to come forward with the truth, “everything went well. I spoke with Watanabe and Shirabu.”

“Not with Takahashi? Wouldn’t he know more than Shirabu?” Eita furrowed his brows, apparently deep in thought. He looked endearing like that and Tendou could only imagine what he’d look like if he were still alive. Maybe he’d be wearing glasses or have another piercing or- he was getting off topic.

“Would’ve said the same as Watanabe, I assumed, so I didn’t look for him. By the way,” he hesitated, looking around the room. There were a few polaroids pinned onto a corkboard, showcasing Eita and his friends laughing and doing other stuff together. He could see Watanabe and what he assumed to be Takahashi in most of them and a small, grumpy-looking guy he identified as Shirabu in other pictures. There was only one where all four of them were together, though neither Takahashi nor Shirabu seemed to be thrilled. “Can I ask you something… personal?”

Eita looked at him and cocked his head to the side, his hair falling into his face. He often did that when confused, Tendou noted, his fingers itching to brush it aside. “Shoot,” he simply answered.

Tendou gulped. It wasn’t his place to ask, but- “Did you ever, y’know, uh… date Shirabu?”

He carefully watched Eita’s face for the smallest twitch, the smallest hint that’d give him away, until- the other’s face screwed up and for a moment Tendou was scared that he’d accidentally offended the other one, but then Eita burst out laughing, clutching his stomach. “What the fuck?” He heaved, tears streaming down his cheeks.

He didn’t really know what to make of the situation, so he just stared at the other, his jaw almost on the floor. “I suppose that’s a ‘no’, then?” He asked with the uttermost caution, still not trusting what he was seeing.

Eita wiped his hand across his face, still chuckling. “No offense, but I’d rather die than date Shirabu.” Tendou decided not to comment on that, but Eita was oblivious to his own choice of words, already continuing. “I’ve never dated Shirabu and I never would.”

Tendou nodded; if Eita said so, he’d believe him. “Alright.”

Looking at him and narrowing his eyes, Eita repositioned himself, his feet now hanging off the bed, and asked, “Why’s that important, though?”

Humming and hawing a little to stall for time, Tendou first looked at his nails and then the ceiling. There were one… two… fifteen randomly placed glow-in-the-dark stars up there. Eita cleared his throat. “Oh- y’know, it just came up when I talked to Watanabe.”

Eita’s already narrowed eyes now became slits, and the room was hotter than it had any right to be. “Why would she say that?”

Tendou gulped, fingering his collar to let the air ventilate better. “I- I dunno? You know her better than I do. Oh and-“ he scratched his head, noticing how the hair hung into his face- “both of them sounded pretty… contradicting? Like-“ Eita wanted to interrupt, but Tendou didn’t let him- “like, Watanabe painted me a pretty horrid picture of what had transpired and Shirabu said you’d never had done… _that_ ,” he finished lamely.

Eita hummed a little, stroking his chin in thought. “That sounds conflicting,” he admitted. Tendou briefly wondered how calm he was compared to what he little emotion he showed, but didn’t dwell on it.

“Yeah, I know, right? But I figured you knew them better so I thought I’d let you decide, or that you’d maybe- remember something.”

The other still didn’t look convinced, knitting his brows together even more. “Remember,” he muttered under his breath, “I feel like I should but-“ he broke off.

“Come on,” Tendou nudged him on, “you _need_ to.” He sounded desperate, even to his own ears, but it was crucial that Eita remembered what had happened here. For the story to end like that was just-

“Hold on,” the other interrupted his thoughts, elegantly getting up and moving towards the door. “Can we check the bathroom? I think that might- help.”

Tendou nodded, but Eita was already gone, leaving him puzzled. He’d need to trust the other, though, so he obediently followed, opening the door as opposed to floating right through it.

Eita was already at the bathroom, waiting for him to see if he was coming before glitching though this one as well. The redhead followed suit, leaving the door open behind him so the smell wouldn’t suffocate him. “And?”

Eita wasn’t looking at him, instead focused on the bathtub in front him. From this angle he couldn’t see the boy’s face, but he didn’t need to in order to read Eita’s emotions. He wasn’t happy. “I- there’s _something_.” He sounded certain and uncertain at the same time, his voice conflicted, like he didn’t know what to think.

He kneeled down and Tendou followed him with his eyes, when Eita reached under the shelf only to come up empty-handed. Eita motioned for Tendou to come over and kneel on the cold tiles to reach under the shelf as well, which he did, trusting that Eita wouldn’t make him grab a spider or something. At first he only felt dust and dirt, but then something solid, edged brushed his fingers and he pulled it out from under the shelf, inspecting it. “A ring,” he commented. “Maybe your mother’s?”

Even though he was looking at the ring, he could feel Eita shaking his head. “No,” he said, all uncertainty gone from his voice, “Watanabe’s.”

Tendou looked closely at it, and what had first looked like a completely normal, black ring now flaked as he rubbed it between his fingers, making its surface shiny and silvery with a blue gem. Flaking, like dried… The too-clean smell rose in his nose, nesting in his nostrils and almost choking him. An acidic taste had settled on his tongue, coating it. “Do you-“ he started, but realized that Eita had frozen up next to him. Full of concern he turned towards the other boy, but Eita made no motion that he’d noticed him, even as he started calling his name, trying to shake his shoulder.

Eita was dead to the world.

_Eita woke up inside his house. Well, maybe he didn’t wake up per se, but he came to inside the house and looked around for Tendou, springing up from the cold bathroom floor and opening the door to rush through to look for the other one._

_He’d just been here, there was no way he’d leave now, not when they were so close to the truth. He wouldn’t just- couldn’t just…_

_Eita hurried to his room, but Tendou wasn’t there either, so he went down to look into each other room. The redhead he’d grown so fond of was nowhere to be found._

_Opening the front door, he shied back; thick, fluffy snow coated the ground, still falling from above- but… it had been summer, right? Tendou had visited him during the summer, hadn’t he?_

_Clutching his head and tugging at his darkening roots he closed the door with a little more force than necessary, when he felt something vibrate in his back pocket. His phone._

_He fished it out; two new messages were displayed on the lock screen._

_Diligently he opened the first one, which was from his parents._

[02/01, 10:18AM] Mom: Hello darling! Just wanted to tell you that we arrived safely in Paris 😀 The food is nice and the sight from our hotel is lovely! Wish you were here! We’ll call you sometime later. You can of course invite some friends over so that you’re not as lonely in this boring old house, but don’t do anything I wouldn’t do 😉 Lots of love, Mom + Dad

_Eita felt himself smile softly, but before he could type something back, the blank space filled itself, his phone typing without his fingers moving across the keyboard._

[02/01, 10:21AM] Eita: hey mom, glad to hear that. hope you enjoy your stay there, and I wouldn’t want to ruin it for you with my horrible French :P yeah, i’ve already asked shira, wata + taka to see if they’re free. don’t worry, am not going to destroy the house. tell dad i said hi. love you too :)

_When it was done, it sent itself. The message sounded eerily similar to what he’d written back then… if it wasn’t the exact same message. He furrowed his brows, opening the second message to prove his theory._

[02/01, 10:17AM] Shirabitch: Okay, so no offense, but if Watanabe and Takahashi are coming you can count me out. Besides, as the official setter I have to attend training today.

_Again the letters appeared on their own without his input._

[02/01, 10:25AM] Eita: you’re such a little bitch shirabu, stop whining. the offer’s still up, though, so if you want to drop by later that’s no problem :)

_He checked to see if Watanabe or Takahashi had written anything else, but both of them hadn’t added anything else since accepting his offer for this evening._

_Eita still had some time left until the two of them would show up, though, so he looked through the pantry to determine if they needed anything else, and when that wasn’t the case he plopped himself down on the couch, idly scrolling through his social media accounts._

_Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, no conspiracies, no theories of the end of the world or any drama, so he grew bored of it not too long after. The isabelline colour of the sky looked depressing from his point of view on the couch; an abundance of clouds stopping each and every ray of sunshine that dared to fall onto earth, concealing him from the rest of the world and making him feel isolated, alone._

_Shuddering, Eita got up and stretched his legs, feeling the joints of his knees pop. He yawned a little as he crouched down near the TV and thumbed through the movies he’d left at his parents’ house, noting the new ones his parents had most likely bought but not finding anything that really interested him. Giving up, he made his way into the hall, cold feet on warm wood, and ascended the staircase._

_He kept the house at a reasonable temperature; not too warm that it wasted unnecessary resources, but also not cold enough to be uncomfortable. If there was one thing he’d learned from living alone, it was that you had to pay for everything, and even if it was his parents’ house, he felt bad by exploiting them like that._

_When he’d reached the top of the stairs, he paused for a second, reorienting himself and deciding where to go next. He could go into his room, but that seemed a little boring now and spending time alone in a bathroom seemed weird, so he let his feet carry him over to the study, his hand already on the wooden door before his mind registered it. Eita pushed it open, letting his gaze wander over everything inside._

_Everything was as it had been, and his easel stood in the back, still covered in splatters of paint. Smiling at it, warm memories flooding through his mind, he rushed out of the room to grab his paints and brushes and then came back, placing them onto the floor._

_He prepared a canvas on the easel, and before consciously deciding what to create, he grabbed the first paint tube – an enigmatic vermillion – and splattered it onto the pristine white canvas, staining it red. Sometimes it was better to let coincidence decide the fate of a painting._

_Eita had been at it for so long that he didn’t notice how the room around him turned darker, or how the shadows became longer. His sole focus laid on the canvas in front of him, and thus he startled violently, almost dropping the palette in his hands, as the doorbell rang._

_Cursing lightly, he checked his phone for the time and sure enough it was 5pm. How time flew by. Without a care in the world he wiped his hands on a cloth that hung beside the easel, careful not to dirty his shirt, and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him._

_The doorbell rang again, and he hurried down, taking two steps at a time until he stood in front of the offending thing, glaring at it._

_Ah, who was he kidding._

_Grinning he opened it as wide as he could, and the person that had previously been molesting the bell flung themselves into his arms. He picked her up and twirled her around, her sable hair swinging around her like a veil._

_Watanabe laughed, enjoying the notion like a child would. Snowflakes clung to her lashes and clothes, melting in the warmth of the house. “I’ve missed you too, Eita,” she said, burying her cold face in the crook of his neck until he squeaked in protest. “That’s what you get for leaving us out in the cold for so long.”_

_Eita set her down and she stepped aside, pulling off her coat and hanging it on a hook next to the door, revealing a slightly confused-looking Takahashi. The guy in question raised a hand and waved it a little awkwardly, until Eita pulled him inside. “So good to see you, Taka!”_

_Takahashi grunted a little, his piercing celadon-coloured eyes never leaving Eita as he too took off his jacket and slipped out of his shoes, dumping them next to the door. Watanabe had already ventured into the kitchen, boiling water to make tea._

_Both boys still stood in the hallway, facing each other, uncertain of what to do after such a long time of being apart. “So,” Eita cleared his throat a little louder than necessary while he heard Watanabe hum in the background, “how’ve you been?”_

_Takahashi shrugged, nonchalance dripping off of him. “Oh, you know. Been bored without you around, but Aiko kept me company.” Eita nodded, and together they went into the kitchen to join Watanabe. Said girl smiled at them, and it warmed him more than any tea could._

_“I see you’ve brought booze, Eita. Knew I could count on you.” She winked and poured a little water into each of the three cups, swirling it around before dumping it into the sink and refilling the mugs with actual tea._

_Then she motioned for them to sit at the table, before placing the cups onto it as well. An azure ring glittered on her finger, catching in the light. He’d have to ask her later where she got her jewellery from._

_While drinking their tea, they filled him in on how things had been away since his last visit, how their studies went – Watanabe as an architecture-undergrad and Takahashi studying medicine – and what else they’d done. It was fulfilling to chat once again with his friends like that; of course the people he’d met at university were fun as well, but there was something peculiar about his first friends – if Shirabu had cared to come as well, everything would’ve been perfect._

_He didn’t dwell on it, relishing in the tea that Watanabe had so lovingly prepared for him, drinking it in small sips. He eyed her while she was chatting with Takahashi about something, and noticed once again how small and fragile she was, how big her eyes seemed in this setting, how her pale skin shimmered in the dimmed light. She was pretty- no, rather beautiful. A work of art, so to speak._

_She must’ve had noticed him staring, because she looked in his direction, grinning at him, something sparking up in her eyes. Then she grabbed Takahashi’s hand with her right and Eita’s hand with her left one, getting up. The chair she pushed back screeched on the tiles. “Why don’t we go upstairs, boys?” She announced, as if the place belonged to her._

_Maybe it did._

_Eita and Takahashi nodded in sync, following her as she led them to the stairs and walked behind her. Her hair, cascading down her back, swung from side to side; it was mesmerizing._

_She led them to Eita’s bedroom, opening the door and plopping down onto the bed, her hands grabbing the duvet and flattening it. “Looks like nothing has changed,” she said, her head swivelling around to take everything in. Every time she was over she acted like she’d never seen the place before._

_He nodded. “Yeah, mom and dad didn’t want to change anything while I was away. Said it’d ruin the feeling.” He shrugged, hearing Watanabe’s high chuckle as she tried to hide her smile behind her hand._

_“Parents,” she said, and that settled it. Parents._

_Takahashi grunted noncommittedly, dropping to the floor at the end of the bed and hugging his knees. For such a big guy he sure was a softie._

_Eita was about to retort something, when he felt Watanabe look at him, frowning slightly. “You’re bleeding,” she said pointing at his arm, and Eita looked down at himself._

_Where was he…? Oh._

_He scratched a little at the red mark on his lower arm, the paint chipping but not really peeling off. “It’s just paint.” A small smile hushed over his face. “Mind if I wash it off in the bathroom real quick?”_

_Takahashi shrugged once again and Watanabe just continued to gaze at him with that weird look in her eyes, so he bolted back out and towards the bathroom, still fingering the dried paint on his arm._

_The tiles were cold as he went inside, not locking the door – there was no need. Instead he grabbed a wash cloth, wetting it before furiously scrubbing his skin with it, the area around the paint turning redder by the minute._

_Eita clicked his tongue, annoyed. At least it hadn’t splattered onto his clothes._

_Still rubbing his skin raw, he heard the door open and close behind him. Not bothering to turn around, he looked into the mirror, seeing Watanabe in its reflection. She was smiling that mysterious smile again._

_“Hey,” she said softly._

_“Hey,” he answered._

_“So,” she started, coming closer towards him until he could feel the warmth radiating off of her, “I just wanted to say- I’m so glad you’re back.” She chuckled, the sound throaty. He’d need to tell her to stop smoking._

_Eita sighed. “Me too, to be honest. I missed you guys more than I first realized.”_

_Watanabe laughed, the sound pure and unaltered. She swept her hair behind her ear so she could look at him better, her eyes a warm shade of mauve, twinkling mischievously. “Why not stay here?” She inquired, cocking her head to the side and folding her hands behind her back like a curious child would._

_He grunted, still focused on his arm. “You know I can’t.” Seeing her reflection pout and move away, he turned around to grasp her forearm, feeling the soft skin beneath his fingers. “I’d love to, really.”_

_Sticking her lower lip out, she stared up at him with big eyes, even closer to him than before. “That’s too bad,” she said, inching closer. Her warm breath ghosted over his collarbone and he suppressed a shudder. Then she wriggled out of his grip and took a few steps back, standing next to the bathtub. “You’re so mean, Eita-kun!” She whined._

_Eita laughed, following her, the paint forgotten for now. He caught up to her and grabbed her arm again to keep her in place, not tightening his grip. “I’m sorry.” It sounded winded, as if he wasn’t getting enough air. Her sweet scent wafted around, making him dizzy._

_She was still pouting, her lips trembling. “Not fair,” she murmured, before getting on her tiptoes, her unoccupied hand in the crease of his neck, and pressing her lips to his own._

_It was just the ghost of a kiss, really, but he felt his breath hitch in his throat, felt how his eyes fluttered shut and his hand tightened around her arm as her warm, warm lips met his own. She tasted like honey and lip-balm and sweetened green tea._

_When she pulled away shortly afterwards, he followed suit, not wanting to end this until he was almost leaning down to her height, his face barely inches from her own._

_From this angle he could perfectly see the slight upturn of her nose, the few moles on her otherwise ivory skin and the dark, stray hair hanging into her face._

_The back of his knees bumped against the edge of the tub as he righted himself and she smirked at him, her eyes never abandoning him. “I like you, Eita,” she said, and his name on her tongue sounded more like a breathless, godless prayer than anything else._

_It made him tingle, made his knees weak and he had to support himself on the edge of the tub._

_Watanabe- Aiko went in for a second kiss, this one more demanding, fiercer and red- so, so red in his mouth and behind his closed eyelids. He gasped, and she caressed his face with both of her hands, the metal part of her ring cold against his heated skin. His hands fisted into her hair, stroking through it as she snuggled close to him, her body fitting perfectly into him._

_He could feel her smile against his lips as she kissed the corners of his mouth, could feel her hands leaving his face and wandering lower – down his chest and his sides and to the waistband of his pants, dipping slightly below._

_That startled him awake. He pulled out of the kiss almost apologetic, and looked down at her, his hands now detangling themselves from her hair to grasp her wrists. “No,” he whispered because he doubted he could say anything else or speak up._

_Aiko frowned at him, her perfect, doll-like face scrunching up in thought. “No? What do you mean, ‘no’?”_

_“I just,” he started, looking for what he wanted to say, “it doesn’t feel right. I don’t want to.” He shrugged, analysing the look on her face. It looked like she’d accidently bit into a lemon, her mouth curling up in distaste._

_“But- but you can’t,” she whispered, her hands still at his waistband, fisting tighter into the soft fabric. Eita furrowed his brows, ready to ask what was wrong, but then the ugly truth reared its head like- whatever. This was neither the time nor the place to finish that analogy._

_Her face didn’t smoothen; it crumpled up even worse, her eyes drowning in a feeling he couldn’t quite name. “You can’t just say no! No one ever says no!” She went on, her voice raising until she was almost shouting. “No one except that- that bastard Shirabu!”_

_“Hey,” Eita interrupted her, “that’s not nice. He’s our friend.”_

_She silenced him with a pointed look. “Shut up! It’s him, isn’t it?” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “It’s him and that’s why you don’t want to!” Aiko pressed a second finger into his chest, digging, clawing until it hurt. “You’re sleeping with him, aren’t you? I knew it!”_

_He tried to brace himself, he really did. But it all was over so fast. So quick._

_No time to_

_think._

_No time to_

_act._

_Not enough of anything  
_

_to breathe_

_one last time._

_One moment he was standing in front of the bathtub, an accusing Aiko in front of him, the next second he was floating on the side-lines, his doppelgänger – or maybe just his body – sprawled out in the bathtub, unblinking, unseeing eyes staring up at the ceiling._

_It was all so surreal. He saw his body lying there, saw Aiko’s face scrunch up in anguish and guilt, heard her pained scream and how somebody bolted down the hallway._

_But it wasn’t him, right?_

_Surely there was a better explanation._

_There was no way it could be him._

_Aiko didn’t seem to notice him, floating right next to the mirror. He looked at it – he didn’t even have a reflection._

_Takahashi threw the door open, taking in the full picture. He paled visibly, sweat forming on the side of his face and running down his temples. “Shit,” he whispered, pushing Aiko aside before kneeling down next to Eita, lifting his limp wrist and pressing his index and middle finger to his pulse. His face fell. “Shit,” he repeated himself, leaning across the tub to lift Eita’s head, which lolled to the left, eyes and mouth ajar as if caught in a silent scream._

_Behind him, Aiko sobbed, her hands covering her face. “I didn’t- didn’t mean to!”_

_Takahashi didn’t pay her any attention, instead looking at Eita’s neck, hands trembling ever so slightly. The real Eita watched, fascinated, horrified. It felt as if his insides were being turned out._

_Takahashi’s voice was brittle when he spoke up. “Seems like a cervical fracture to me.” Both of them stared him, not comprehending. “Commonly called a broken neck,” he explained, “a fracture of one- maybe more, I don’t know – of the seven cervical vertebrae in the neck. A spinal cord injury can lead to instant death.” He let Eita’s head drop back onto the edge of the tub, a dull thud resounding in the otherwise quiet room. “It wasn’t an accident,” he observed, finally looking at Aiko._

_“I didn’t mean to push him; you have to believe me!” Aiko explained herself, voice high and panicking, tears still streaming down her cheeks and splashing onto the floor._

_Eita was about to retort when he saw Takahashi move – but to his surprise the other just went to hug her, enveloping her as tightly as he could. “I know,” he whispered, and something boiled over in Eita._

_He wanted to scream, wanted to yell, wanted to- to…_

_But the other boy was already continuing. “Need to make it look like an accident,” he said, the definition of calmness. “Listen,” he started, pushing Aiko slightly away to look into her eyes._

_Even though he pretended to be calm, his eyes betrayed his true feelings. They quickly scanned the room, not focusing on anything. “Listen. I will- will take care of this and you go into his room. When I give you an okay, you’ll call the ambulance and say there’s been a suicide, got it?”_

_The girl looked at him, eyes full of unanswered questions. “But- how… I don’t…” She trailed off, but Takahashi already pushed her out of the room, closing the door behind her and thus shutting her out._

_He stared at the closed door for a moment, and Eita almost missed it when he muttered, “A dead man can’t hold grudges, he’s just that –_ dead _. Eita would’ve wanted to protect his friends.”_

_How fucking philosophical, how touching. The ghost part of him didn’t quite know how to interpret that. Who was this guy to dictate him how he had to act, what he had to feel? The corporeal part of him didn’t seem to be doing much interpreting – or anything else – at this moment._

_Then Takahashi went for the cabinet and pulled out a shaver. With hands that were a little calmer now that the first shock had passed, he pried open its plastic case and extracted the razor._

_Eita could only watch, his feet frozen to the ground. His double still stared at him. He stared right back for a second._

_Seeing yourself laying there felt wrong._

_Takahashi put the razor on the edge of the tub and finally,_ finally _dragged Eita’s body away so he laid in the tub, slightly propped up. He turned on the tap, putting it on the coldest setting and let the water fill it, before hurriedly grabbing the razor and positioning himself over Eita._

_“Sorry,” he whispered, before he made two long, vertical cuts down Eita’s wrists and placing the razor in Eita’s hands, closing them around it and dragging him up a little by the armpits. Ashen hair fell onto his shoulders, and the blood ran – if slowly – down his arms, staining the water that now surrounded his body._

_How funny. Apparently he hadn’t been dead long enough for the blood to clump yet. Such a good thing that his_ friends _knew how to get rid of a body._

_Before he could follow that train of thought, Takahashi yelled ‘Okay!’ and he could hear Aiko phoning somebody in the other room, sobbing unrestrainedly._

_What a pitiful, pathetic thing._

_Eita looked as Takahashi made the last, finishing touches, closing his eyes and turning the tap off, obviously content with his work. The guy had the audacity to nod his head at the scene and rub his hands together, as if he’d just finished work or something._

_As if he hadn’t just hidden murder behind suicide._

_Takahashi stepped back, and Eita wanted to do nothing more than spit at him, insult him, hell, sucker punch the guy._

_Instead he snarled, eyes narrowed as his double was engulfed by ice cold water. The other Eita looked peaceful; sleeping._

_Takahashi left the room, and before he could follow, before he could hear what the other said to Aiko, the world around him turned red._

_It filled his eyes, his nose, his mouth, his head, all of his senses, and the last thing he saw was his lifeless,_ dead _form, red water slowly circling around his corpse._

Tendou furrowed his brows, the ring still clutched in his hands. Eita next to him was gasping as if he’d just finished a marathon, making small, retching noises. “Eita?” He asked cautiously, turning to the other.

The boy didn’t pay him any attention.

He cleared his throat. Louder, then. “Eita?” He repeated himself. “Didya zone out on me or something?” Tendou took the boy in – he looked horrid, pallid, even more so than usual, sweating and heaving, and his own chest constricted.

Eita took a deep breath, steeling himself. “Satori,” he started, and the sound of his name on the other’s tongue made shivers run down his spine. “Satori, I-“

Despite knowing better, he held his breath, awaiting what the other had to say.

Eita looked at him, eyes blazing with something akin to hopelessness. “Satori, I am _dead_.”

It felt as if the other had just caved in his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> on the bright side, you'll never see watanabe again. or takahashi. good riddance, never liked them either way. they're one-dimensional and they're gonna stay that way. you know why?  
> bc they're plot devices


	6. Husk å leve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> would you believe it, we're finally done!  
> didnt actually take as long as expected, but well... thats good too, i guess.

When Eita had finished his story, Tendou wanted nothing more than to sprint right out of the house, get into the car and gouge Watanabe’s eyes out. In the metaphorical sense of course because he wasn't quite ready to commit a crime yet apart from unlawful breaking and entering.

He wasn’t a very violent person per se, but how she lied directly to his face and even dared to insinuate that-

He felt Eita shift beside him and redirected his attention to him, his furious glare almost piercing holes into the ghost. His hands had closed around the ring, its sharp edges digging into the soft flesh there, sending flashes of white, hot pain through his mind. It just wasn’t _fair_. But life was seldom fair, was it?

Eita sighed softly beside him. “You’re angry,” he stated, his voice calm. Tendou was sick of it.

“Of course I am!” He wanted to scream, to shout, to just shake the other so he would come to his senses, but nothing, _nothing_ would help. Nothing would dull the pain or make it any less real. “You should be angry too!” He pointed an accusing finger towards Eita, as if that would make the ghost admit that he truly was angry.

Eita shifted again, seemingly uncomfortable on the floor. “I am,” he assured Tendou, “to a certain degree.”

Tendou wanted to do nothing more than bury his head in his hands, and that he did. Groaning, he said, “You’re unbelievable. Don’t you wanna get, like, revenge or something?” He peeked out between his fingers, watching as Eita seemed to ponder the question.

He almost missed the quiet ‘An eye for an eye and the whole world goes blind’. But only almost. Shaking his head in disbelief, he propped his chin up on his knees, drawing them closer to his body. “So what? They wronged you, there’s nothing wrong with being angry and a little resentful.”

Shaking his head, Eita continued. “That wouldn’t do anything, would it? I’m already dead-“ he raised his hand to cut Tendou’s protest off- “and there’s nothing we can do, and neither can they. It’s over.”

It sounded final. Tendou didn’t want this to be final.

He crawled a little forward, knees hurting on the tiles, his hand almost touching Eita’s – if it could. It hovered uncertainly above the flickering, glitchy particles that ghosts were made of. Maybe ectoplasm. Probably ectoplasm. Eita gave him a sad little smile, and the creases at his eyes deepened. “I’m sorry you had to get mixed up in this.”

Now it was Tendou’s turn to shake his head. “I don’t mind – I mean, I kind of asked for this.” He shrugged, still close to Eita. The ghost still radiated coolness, a welcome change in the midsummer heatwave they were experiencing. “It was- fun, being with you. I just wish…” He trailed off. Eita would understand him, either way.

“Me too. I had more fun than I first anticipated.” He turned his face toward the window, watching as the sun slowly but surely started disappearing behind the neighbouring houses. Her warm light cast shadows on Eita’s face, illuminating his high cheekbones and making his dark eyes twinkle. He’d never looked more alive than in this moment.

Tendou could’ve gotten lost in the sight, but Eita wasn’t done talking. “Can you stay? One last night?” It was more of a plead than a request. Yet, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I’d go with you to the edge of the world if you asked, Eita,” he answered honestly.

Eita chuckled. “Sappy.” Still, he didn’t add anything else or made fun of him, so Tendou counted it as a win.

Instead of thinking of a witty comeback, he got up, legs cramped from being on the floor for too long, and watched as Eita rose as well, much smoother and faster than he did. The ghost looked complacent, noting Tendou’s difficulties.

“My room?” He asked, his gaze lingering on Tendou maybe a second too long.

Tendou whistled lowly. “We’ve known each other for, like, decades and only now you invite me to your room? How rude, Semisemi!”

It elicited a subdued laugh from Eita, so taking the risk and joking around had been worth it. He followed the other, stuffing the ring in his pocket and closing the bathroom door behind him.

That had been enough emotional distress for a day.

Eita waited for him on the other side of his bedroom door, looking at him expectantly before floating towards the bed and settling down. Neither the duvet nor the mattress reacted to him in any way, but at least he didn’t fall right through either.

How much longer that would take; Tendou didn’t know. He sat down next to Eita, and both faced the wall, not looking at each other. It was quiet, only the chirping of the birds outside and Tendou’s calm breathing audible.

Eita shuffled his feet next to him, hands shaking slightly in his lap.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice small.

Tendou felt a pang in his chest. There was no way he could reassure the other, not when he knew nothing himself. “It’ll be alright,” he tried nonetheless, not wanting to see Eita suffer any more than he’d already had. Fate was unrelenting sometimes.

He could feel Eita’s big, brown eyes look up at him, could feel them scan his face, searching for the lie. “Stay here? With me?”

“Always.”

He couldn’t deny a dying man’s last request. Not when it was Eita.

The ghost laid down on his side, facing the wall and almost too big for the bed. Tendou followed suit, trying to nestle into Eita, spooning him without glitching right through, which was a harder feat than first anticipated.

Whenever he closed his eyes, he could pretend to feel Eita’s hair tickle against his nose, almost making him sneeze. Whenever the opened them, the illusion was gone immediately.

The boy sighed, and it sounded content. “Thanks,” he mumbled quietly.

“It’s no problem,” Tendou replied. And it was true. There was no place he’d rather be.

Amiable silence settled between them and the warm light of dusk painted the inside of the room a deep shade of red, gave Eita’s skin a little more colour and made his own eyelids so, so heavy.

Without meaning to, he fell asleep.

* * *

Tendou was alone when he woke up.

Frantically he bolted upwards, his body cold as the early light of dawn made its way into the room.

“Eita?” He called, holding his breath in anticipation of a response. No one answered. “Eita?” He tried again, louder this time. Still nothing.

Tendou sprung from the bed, something rushing to the ground beside him, joints aching, and stumbled to the door, feet uncertain and eyes still clouded by sleep. He ripped the door open and hurried outside, checking the study and – when that didn’t bear the expected results – the bathroom. 

Eita was nowhere to be found, not even a trace of him.

Panic growing inside him and gnawing at his mind, Tendou sprinted down the stairs, almost tripping over his own feet but catching himself on the railing the last second. “Where are you?”

In his heart, he already knew the answer.

He opened the kitchen door, expecting to find Eita at the table, laughing at him. _“You’ve overslept again, Satori?”_ He’d say, a steaming, half full cup of coffee in his hands. _“Wouldn’t have expected anything else from you. You’re late for your morning classes, but luckily I’ve already prepared breakfast.”_

They’d laugh and he’d kiss Eita on the cheek and thank him and then set off and-

No one was there; the kitchen was deserted. The petals of the small, withered flower had turned to dust, piling up on the table.

Tendou rushed back outside, feet warm against the cold floorboards. The living room! He’d be in the living room, yeah, that’d be- Eita was playing a joke on him. There he’d be, reading something on his phone on the couch, a movie muted in the background. Maybe one of Tendou’s anime. He’d look up and smile and greet him. _“How did you sleep? Sorry that I didn’t stay with you, but you snored way too loud.”_ He’d bicker right back and they’d cuddle on the couch.

No one was there either.

Trying to calm his breathing, he sat down on the couch, heads in his hands once again. Where could Eita be? It felt all too familiar.

There was no point in calling out to Eita, was there?

He was truly-

Tendou furrowed his brows. Why would Eita just up and leave like that? Why hadn’t he said goodbye?

His blood froze in his veins. Maybe Eita tried, maybe he’d wanted to shake Tendou awake, maybe he’d shouted in his ear and Tendou just hadn’t heard it, maybe, maybe, _maybe…_

Perhaps he’d disappeared in his sleep. Did ghosts sleep? Yes, of course, he’d seen it before.

Shielding his eyes from the first sunrays of the day, he got up, still keeping an eye out for Eita. Maybe he’d come back.

But even wishful thinking couldn’t change reality, apparently, and when Eita still hadn’t appeared after ten minutes, he went up the stairs and back into the safety of the bedroom.

Everything still looked the same, but the duvet was tangled on the bedroom. For a moment he thought Eita had come back, but then it dawned on him that he had just dragged it off the bed when he’d left in a frenzy.

He sighed, running his hand through his hair, which hung into his face, matted and dry. Tendou sat down on the duvet, his own little nest, safe haven, _whatever_ -

It smelled like washing powder and acrylic paint and pine trees and lavender. Maybe Eita had smelled like that, too.

He’d never know.

Instead of moping on the floor, he got up again, restless. Something shiny was on the desk, and he grabbed it without thinking, pocketing it. It clinked against something else in his pocket and he fished both objects out. A small coin and a ring laid on his palm, metallic sheen reflecting in the cold light.

He stuffed them back inside and went to the corkboard, removing only two pictures; one, where Eita smiled happily at the camera, arm slung around Shirabu, and one in which he apparently was at the barber, getting his hair dyed.

He’d never asked Eita what the thought process behind that decision was.

He’d never get the chance to.

Tendou carefully placed them inside the other pocket and then it – it felt like his time to leave. He just knew it. Eita wouldn’t want him snooping around anymore, that much he was sure of. And he’d respect the other’s wishes.

Thus he walked out of the room, taking one long, last look at everything, remembering how everything was, how it smelled. Full of unspoken regrets, he closed the door behind him. Slowly he made his way down the stairs, and when Eita still hadn’t magically appeared in any of the other rooms, he went directly for the front door.

Once he’d reached it, uncertainty hit him full on, almost making him stumble. 

This was it, right? This was the end.

He didn’t want to leave.

And yet he still did. Had no choice. Eita wouldn’t want him to remain.

He walked out of the house, only turning around shortly to lock the door with the silver key still on his keychain. When that had been taken care of, he faced the driveway, not daring to look back. There was only one thing to be done now.

* * *

Once he’d arrived back home – he came to notice that he didn’t really miss his apartment; it felt cold, lifeless without Eita around – he searched for an empty, usable envelope and addressed it to Watanabe Aiko and, after depositing the small ring inside, he went for the nearest postbox, which wasn’t that far away when you lived in the city.

Eita hadn’t wanted to do anything about it, but it still was her fault that this had even happened in the first place.

Maybe he’d visit the other’s final resting place later and apologize for it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry that this chapter is kinda short, but i didnt even plan on writing it at first. its just there to tie up a few loose ends.
> 
> moral of the story? Love makes you blind? I mean, look at tendou and takahashi.
> 
> i hope you enjoyed the journey and werent too disappointed by my predictability.  
> [Edit]: after reading over this again, all i have to say is that i hate it and that i'll definitely edit it someday. I'll refrain from completely deleting it since I know that some people enjoyed it, but i dont think that i handled the subjects that well. Sorry


End file.
